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“ ‘ You heah ?’ he cried; ‘ you heah ?’ roared Smalltrash.” — 

Page 175. 




THE BAD BOY 

AND 

’HIS SISTER. 

By BBNJAMIN BROABAXB. 

■V - . , \ 

u 

FIRESIDE SERIES, No. 34. NOVEMBER, 1887. 

Issued Monthly (Extra), Subscription, $3.00 per year. 

Entered at New York Post- Office as second-class matter. 

(Copyright, 1887, by J. S. Ogelvib! A Co.) 


J. S. OGILVIE & COMPANY 

67 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 

79 Wabash Avenue, Chicago.' 



THE BAD BOY AND HIS SISTER. 

(Copyright, 1887.) 


By benjamin broadaxe. 


CHAPTER I. 

HE PLAYS A MEAN TRICK ON HIS PA. 

** Susan, — Susan, what’re we to do ? I do 
believe that boy’ll be the death o’ me ?” 

“ What’s he bin doin’ now, Abram ?” 

'' Doin’, what is ’t he aint bin doin’?” and the 
.rate father mopped his florid complexion with 
his shirt sleeve. Abram Mullen did not look 
like a happy man at that moment, as he wiped 
his face with his shirt sleeve and wiggled a pair 
of bruised and bleeding fingers in the air, while 
his wife got soft linen cloths to tie them up. . 

What’s Asa bin doin’ now, Abram ?” she 
again asked, cutting out a piece of goods she had 
taken from the bureau drawer. 

Doin’, — he’s allers iip to some mischief. I 
don’t see how I kin stand him any Ipnger.” 


6 EE PLATS a' MEAN TBICK 

t 

Mrs. Mullen was a patient body and allowed 
her husband to go on until he was ready to tell 
her what new outrage had been perpetrated by 
their son and hopeful heir. 

'' I could stand his paintin’ a nigger on the 
barn door an’ almost skeerin’ me to death, his 
puttin’ a burr under the saddle, or turnin’ the 
preacher’s saddle hind part before, so when he 
got on in the night he couldent find his bosses 
head ; his puttin’ the tictac under the bed-room 
winder, harnessin’ the cow to the buggy, makin’ 
old Bally kick up when I was startin’ to town, 
tyin’ grass across the path I had to go to the 
field, tyin’ the hitch rein to my gallus when I 
was stoopin’ to tie my shoe and then skeerin’ the 
boss ; all them little things is nuthin’; but when 
he sets a steel trap in the corn crib, in the very 
crack where I allers put my hand to git corn, to 
ketch an otter, it’s too much — I can’t stand it.” 

The wife and mother sympathised with the 
afflicted man and did everything in her power to 
console him, but she had long regarded Asa as a 
hopeless case. At last with a sigh which was 
deep from the heart, she said : 

“ Well, Abram, what’re we goin’ to do ? ’Taint 
no use to beat him.” 

“ Beat ’im, no. I’ve peeled the hide off’n that 
boy a dozen times, but it don’t never do any 
good. I don’t know what to do.” 


ON ms PA. 


7 


Mr. Mullen sat down upon a chair, his brow 
clouded and perplexed. '' Fve jest got to the 
end o’ my row,” he sighed. Doubtless by this 
figurative speech he meant to imply that he had 
got to his wit’s end. He nursed his fingers, 
which his good wife had bound up in a mush 
poultice, and mused : I guess this’ll cut me out 
from goin’ to the log rollin’. No ’ns got any bus- 
iness thar with hands badly mashed as mine.” 

^^You haint got much business thar anyway, 
old man,” said Mrs. Mullen quickly. You’re a 
deekin, an’ deekins orter keep away from sich 
places.” 

'' Now, Susan, jest listen to you, as if any 
harm could come o’ a log rollin’. Thar aint 
been a log rollin’ in this part o’ Kaintucky fur 
yeers that I ain’t been to.” 

I know it, an’ ye’d been better away.” 

Abram Mullen sighed and gazed out from the 
old-fashioned window of his old-fashioned Ken- 
tucky farm-house. The scenery was picturesque. 
Green glades, hollows and ridges were in the 
foreground, relieved by blue hills and mountains 
in the background. He was not much of a man 
to be in the house. In fact Abram Mullen had 
passed most of his life in open air. His strong 
arm had felled the trees and broke the soil 
--which made his farm. He had prided himself 
on his strength and activity for many years. 


8 


HE PLATS A MEAN TRICK 


I dun no when thar was a log rollin’ without 
me,” he sighed as he watched the busy bees 
humming drowsily about their gums. “Thar 
comes Jake, that lazy nigger on a run, wonder 
what he wants now.” 

A tall, shambling negro, wearing trowsers and 
shirt much too loose for him, and seeming ill- 
proportioned in every way, came up the hill 
from the spring at a shambling run. 

“’Tisjake; somethin’s happened,” said Mrs. 
Mullen in some alarm. 

Mr. Mullen was on his feet in a moment, and 
running to the door bawled out before the negro 
was nearer to the house than fifty yards : 

“Jake, Jake, what’s the matter ?” 

“Oh master — master,” cried Jake, gesticulat- 
ing wildly with his arms, “ little Asa am 
a dyin.” 

“ What ? good heaven, Susan ! git the camp-fire 
and come. Where is he, Jake, run ?” 

Down the hill went Jake blowing like a por- 
poise before a storm, and Mr. Mullen, all resent- 
ment against his refractory son gone, running 
after him. Mr. Mullen was an active man for 
one of fifty, and thought it would accelerate his 
speed more by jumping the yard fence than 
opening the gate, so over he went, alighting on 
his nose. But Asa, his beloved Asa, was dying, 
and he scrambled to his feet, In the meanwhile 


ON ms PA. 


9 


the kind-hearted mother ran to the kitchen, 
screamed for Aunt Sukey and Jude, the colored 
women, to get the “camp-fire bottle.” In too 
great haste to wait on them, she sprang at the 
cupboard. At the first dive she made, she got 
the pepper box, and the top having been care- 
lessly left off, a fact which she in her haste did 
not observe, she upset that useful article of the 
culinary department, and received a part of the 
contents in her eyes. But what mother will halt 
a moment on account of pepper in her eyes, 
when her child is dying. 

“ The camp-fire, the camp-fire,” she screamed, 
and when Jude ran in, found the camphor bottle 
for her “ missus,” and put it in her hand, she 
just brushed some of the pepper from her eyes 
and face with her apron, and ran with all speed, 
blinded as she was, against the gate post, which 
struck her like a run-away team, and sent her 
sprawling on the ground. In the meanwhile 
Mr. Mullen who had caught up with Jake, asked 
that badly excited individual what was the mat- 
ter with Asa. 

“ Hung hissef,” the negro cried. 

“ Suicided ! oh, lordy, I driv him to it,” groaned 
the penitent father. “ It was jest out o’ fear o’ 
another wallupin that he done it ” 

The sentence was not finished, for the father 
in his speed did not notice the knot in the grass 


10 EE PLATS A MEAN TBIOK ON EIS PA, 


across the path, and his boot striking it with a 
twenty-five horse power sent him sprawling 
upon the ground. He would have laid there 
much longer than he did, had he not remem- 
bered that his boy was hanging, perhaps dead, 
on a tree down by the spring. He got up and 
limped down to the foot of the hill, where he saw 
a sandy-headed boy about fourteen years old, 
with nose slightly inclined to turn up, and a few 
freckles sprinkled about over his face, mending 
a broken rope. 

Asa, Asa, my darlin’ boy, what’s the matter 
with you ?” cried the agonized father. 

“ Nuthin’,” Asa answered innocently, as he 
turned his mischievous blue eyes on his father. 

“ Did’nt you hang yerself ?” 

Naw. I jist skeered that nigger by hanging 
myself by the chin in that loop, but the rope 
broke that’s all.” 

It is useless to say that Mr. Mullen was much 
lamer going back to the house than coming 
down the hill. He found his wife feeling her 
way among the trees and calling on some one 
to lead her to her dying boy. He took her 
home and both were laid up for a day or two. 
Asa was very sorry, and said that he didn’t 
intend to hurt anybody, and wondered why they 
should be makin’ such a fuss about him skin- 
nin’ cats in a rope.” 


ASA PLAYS £ MEAN TRICK ON HIS PA. 


11 



‘‘Asa, Asa, my darlin’ boy, what’s the matter with you.” — 

Page 10. 





12 


HE PLATS A MEAN TRICK 


'' Skinnin* cats,” cried Mr. Mullen, nursing his 
injured ankle and hand alternately. What d’ye 
mean a skinnin’ my hand by settin’ a steel trap in 
the corn crib ?” 

'' I thought I’d ketch a otter.” 

'' A otter, ye idiot ; d’ye think otters are found 
in cribs?” 

'' I heerd ’em say otters would go in steel traps, 
and didn’t know it made any difference where ye 
sot ’em.” 

Mr. Mullen was a patient man, but this he 
could not endure. Asa sat with his frowsled hair 
pushed back from his broad forehead, when his 
father seized him by the neck, shook him a 
moment, and hurled him from the door. 

Asa was not one to harbor malice or revenge. 
He forgave his father almost immediately, and in 
five minutes after was watching a pair of cats 
enjoying each other’s society with their tails tied 
together and hung over a clothes line. 

Asa was a very interesting boy. He usually 
kept people and animals about him interested. 
It was useless for his parents and sister, who was 
a grown young lady, to expostulate with him. 
He was not a bad-hearted boy. He was simply 
mischievous. Sometimes when one of his pranks 
had caused very much pain and suffering he even 
wept, especially after his father had almost taken 
the skin off hi3 back. 


oiv^ ms PA. 


13 


The day of the log rolling Mr. Mullen could 
not go. It’s too bad Susan,” he said. I aint 
missed one afore for years. A Kaintucky log 
rollin’ I don’t think ’ud seem natural without me.” 
His ire was rising against his son for depriving 
him of this privilege, when he chanced to glance 
out in the yard, and saw his dear little boy, whom 
he loved so well, gamboling on the green sward 
with “ Billy,” the pet ram, and thought he could 
never have it in his heart to punish him. Asa 
and the pet ram were special friends and were 
almost always together. They had many a frolic. 
Sometimes Billy got in a square hit from both 
shoulders at once, and sent Asa whirling head 
over heels, but a boy never gets hurt bad when 
having fun. He had learned to manage Billy 
pretty well. He might have learned it from 
some antiquated Indian Scout who had from cover 
of a tree, drawn the fire of the enemy by expos- 
ing his cap. At any rate Asa had given Billy 
many a surprise by shaking his cap at him, and 
then suddenly withdrawing it just as Billy came 
with a stiffened neck, and horns and head pre- 
sented, to knock the hateful cap to Jericho. 

It was Sunday morning. One of those beauti- 
ful days in June when all the world seems at 
peace. Grass was growing green all over the 
hills, and brilliant-hued flowers painted many a 
glorious picture on nature’s canvas. The blue 


14 


BE PLATS A MEAN TPICK 


sky was as clear as the conscience of the sinless. 
A strange, happy repose seemed to have fallen 
over the earth. A quiet, — a hush in nature — 
seemed to prevail everywhere, teaching all that it 
was the glorious Sabbath. The tinkling bells 
and drowsy hum of bees seemed only to lull one 
to repose. The sun was not more than an hour 
high but the Mullen family had disposed of their 
breakfast, the house had been made tidy, and all 
were assembled in the best room for prayers. 
Father Mullen was a devout man ; yet with his 
incorrigible boy, his faith was frequently shaken. 
Asa, of course, kneeled with his father, mother 
and sister in the morning service. The door was 
open and the mild summer sun streamed in. 
Asa was near the door, and we shall not say that 
he tried to be very devout, but somehow his 
young restless spirit got tired of that long prayer. 
Father Mullen always prayed a long time, and 
Asa longed to be romping over the hills. He 
was kneeling over a rude hickory bottom chair, 
when a fly bit him on his bare foot. He kicked 
it off, and turned to catch it. Somehow just 
when Asa wanted to be real good, some kind of 
mischief would pop in his head. While trying 
to catch the fly he discovered his old playmate 
Billy, peacefully nibbling the grass. Now why 
couldn’t the boy let the ram alone ? We don’t 


ON BIS PA. 


15 


know nor he don’t ; but he mechanically took up 
his straw hat which lay on the floor and looking 
slyly at his father, who was kneeling about the 
centre of the room his back toward the door, and 
assuring himself that neither his mother nor sister 
were watching him, he shook his hat at the ram. 

Billy saw that hated straw hat, and became 
belligerent. The ram s eyes flashed fire, and shak- 
ing his head, he backed off, seeming to say by his 
very actions : “Now I’ll knock that hateful old 
straw hat of Asa’s into the middle of next week, 
or surrender my reputation as a head pounder.” 

Billy backed off a considerable distance to give 
a full sweeping effect to his blow. 

The prayer went on, and Asa, now seemingly 
possessed of some impish spirit, shook his hat 
more determinedly at the ram. Mr. Mullen had 
just got into the center of the wilderness, and 
Moses had struck the stone of living water with 
his rod, when there came a mighty rushing of 
wind, the clatter of a regiment of cavalry, and 
an avalanche, a thunderbolt and locomotive at 
speed of a hundred miles an hour all combined, 
seemed to strike the good Mr. Mullen between the 
shoulders. Head over heels over the chair, fly- 
ing through the air, the good man went, lighting 
on his back in a far corner of the room. He was 
considerably stunned, and as his wife and the 


16 


BOW sm BEAtT 


anxious Asa helped him to his feet, he breath- 
lessly stammered : 

“ Susan— Susan, I’ll be derned if I don’t kill 
that sheep.” 


CHAPTER II. 

HOW sis’ beau got in trouble. 

The blue grass State is said to be noted for its 
fine horses, but it may also be said to be noted 
for its beautiful ladies. Beauty of every descrip- 
tion, shade and color runs riot in glorious old 
Kentucky. Here, where the hot air of the trop- 
ics is met by the cold wave from the arctics and 
changed to the gentle zephyr, beauty seems to 
abound. There are blondes and brunettes, and 
some neither ; some with hazel eyes and soft 
brown eyes, and golden hair, so that a searcher 
after the beautiful would be at a loss to tell 
which type of loveliness to select. Some one 
has said that Kentucky girls marry young. 
Well, they certainly never become old maids for 
lack of proposals. 

Beauty in this land of blue grass, fine horses, 
and pretty girls, is not found alone in the cities, 
or even in the more pretentious country man- 


GOT IN TUOUBLE. 


17 


sions. It abounds in the farm-house, the hovel 
or lonely wood-cutter’s cabin. It may be found 
among the mountain breaks, where the ignorant 
and illiterate dwell. In that genial clime, where 
ever you go, you will find girls pretty enough to 
drive you crazy. 

Clara Mullen was just as pretty as she could 
be. That was the general verdict of even the 
old spinsters who knew her, and when an old 
woman with a marriageable daughter of her own 
gives such a decision about a girl, you can rest 
assured there is some foundation for it. But 
Clara with her wealth of golden hair, her eyes 
blue as the clearest heaven, sunny roguish smiles, 
which seemed only born to display teeth of pearl 
and lips of ruby, was enough to drive half the 
young men in the neighborhood mad. 

Clara was not quite so mischievous as her 
brother Asa, but it was only because she kept a 
better check on her fun loving propensities. 
She was a girl who was naughty but nice. If 
she did flirt a little it was only for the fun of the 
thing, and no one living could have told which 
one of her half dozen beaux she would accept. 
Her charms were known even at the great cities, 
and she had beaux from Louisville and Lexing- 
ton. There was Mr. Paul Webster from Louis- 
ville, and Messrs. Sammy Flaxseed and Billy 
Smallthrash from Lexington, who were almost 


18 


HOW SIS' BEAU 


''dead gone” on Clara. She had in addition, 
half-a-dozen rustic beaux, who were trying hard 
to cut out them "city chaps.” 

The Friday following the disastrous event 
which closed the preceding chapter, brought 
Mr. Paul Webster from Louisville. Now Fri- 
day is an unlucky day, and why Paul selected 
this day is a mystery to us. Asa, who had not 
played a prank for four days, was growing decid- 
edly hungry for some sort of amusement. His 
propensity for mischief had smothered and 
smouldered so long beneath the cover of parental 
discipline, that it was likely to burst forth like 
a volcanic eruption on whatever unfortunate 
victim happened to be in reach. 

" Sis,” he said, going to the kitchen where 
Clara was superintending the baking and doing 
the fine pastry work with her own lily white 
hands, " It’s got to come somehow. I’ll die ’fi 
don’t do some mischief soon.” 

" Hush, Asa, an’ go away,” said Miss Clara, 

"Oh, honey, ye jist orter be ’shamed o’ yer 
self,” said Aunt Sukey, wh6 was a very religious 
old darkey. " D’ye think de good Lawd’s agwine 
to bless a boy bad as you are ?” 

" Naw, Aunt Sukey, I guess I’s a gone sucker,” 
said Asa, throwing himself in a chair and twirl- 
ing his straw hat. 


QOT IN TROUBLE. 


19 


I say, Sis, isn’t that yer beau just come in 
an’ talkin’ to pa.” 

'' No ; it’s Mr. Webster,” said Miss Clara. 

'' Well, aint he yer beau ?” 

No.” 

“ Who is ?” 

'' I have none.” 

“ Oh, shugar — git out. Ye can’t stuff me with 
chaff. He’s yer beau, an’ I bet now we don’t git 
rid o’ him afore Monday mornin’.” 

Well, ye needn’t worry yerself if we don’t.” 

Oh, I aint a goin’ to, but I was jest a thinkin’ 
I couldn’t hold in that long.” 

Asa got up and was deliberately walking out 
of the kitchen trying to perform the feat with 
his hat which he had seen circu? clowns do, when 
Clara, somewhat alarmed by his last remark, 
seized his arm. 

“Look here, Asa,” she said, while her large 
mischievous blue eyes tried hard to assume a 
look of solemnity, “ you don’t want to go to play- 
ing any tricks on Mr. Webster ?” 

“ How d’ye know I don’t ?” 

“Well, you better not.” 

“ Oh, let go. Sis. I guess he’ll git away from 
here with whole skin,” and being released this 
very interesting specimen of Young America 
strode out of the kitchen. 

Mischievous, fun loving Clara could not 


20 


‘ now 818^ BEAtT 


repress a laugh, when she thought that her 
brother would undoubtedly bring her lover to 
grief. 

Mr. Webster was a worthy young man, but 
so bashful that he had never been able to suc- 
ceed well in society. 

He had met this country belle while she was 
on a visit to her cousin in the city, and it is use- 
less to say he had fallen in love with her. What 
mattered it to him that she was a little rural in 
her manner and speech, she was a diamond in 
the rough. Her heart was right ; a merry, jolly, 
fun loving heart, indeed it was, but it was just 
such a heart as he could wish. It was a heart 
tender and warm, yet one to almost plague and 
annoy a poor bashful fellow like Paul to death. 

Paul was a book-keeper in his uncle’s large 
store. He was a young man of good family, 
excellent business qualifications, and would 
inherit a large share of his uncle’s fortune. 
When he asked Clara’s permission to call on her 
at her country home, she annoyed the poor fel- 
low almost out of his wits before she would grant 
her consent. 

Asa went into the room where his father sat 
propped up in the old arm chair, telling Mr. 
Webster how nearly he had lost his life by being 
butted over by the pet ram. . 

“I’d a killed the thing, an’ I guess I orter a 


GOT IN TROUBLE. 


21 


done so,” said the Kentucky farmer, but my 
leetle boy’s kinder sot his heart on it. They’re 
great playmates, ye see, Mr. Webster. Did ye 
ever have a pet sheep ?” 

“ No, sir,” answered the bashful lover, wonder- 
ing where Miss Clara was and wishing she would 
come in the room, that he might get a sight of 
her. 

'‘Well, ye’d better never want to. They’re 
the meanest pets ye ever seed. They seem to 
be kinder behavin’ theirselves a leetle while, bat 
it’s only waitin’ a chance to give ye a knock 
that’ll send ye over into Tennessee.” 

Clara seemed decidedly coquetish this even- 
ing. She did not come to the apartment where 
her anxious lover was, until his patience had 
almost been worn threadbare, and then she just 
barely asked after his health, and hurried away 
to superintend the household duties which seemed 
to constantly demand her attention. 

Finding that Miss Clara was a little shy, Mr, 
Webster, who possessed considerable shrewdness 
despite his bashful propensities, began to make 
friends with her incorrigible brother. Asa met 
his advances, and they took a ramble that even- 
ing through the woods. 

“ D’ye see that big dead tree,” said Asa, point- 
ing to a large dead oak across the hollows and 
forests. 


23 


HOW 8IS* BEAU 


. '' Oh yes.” 

Wall, sir, d’ye know there’s a panther conies 
on it every night, an’ when the moon shines, ye 
kin see it.” 

“ Is that so ?” asked Mr. Webster, somewhat 
incredulously. 

“ D’ye think I’d lie to ye ?” asked Asa Mullen 
with an injured air. 

No, no ! Oh no.” 

I say mister, yer goin’ to stay all night, ain’t 
ye ?” 

'' I don’t know ?” Paul answered, blushing pro- 
fusely. 

“Oh, o’ course ye will. You. won’t git to 
spark Sis one bit ’nless ye do. Wall, ef ye do, 
I’ll watch that ’ar tree, ’n when the panther comes 
out ’ll let ye know. Ef ye’ll climb that big 
apple tree clus to our yard gate ye kin see him 
very well when he’s up ’n that dead oak.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Will ye come ’n see ’im ?” 

“ Oh, of course.” 

“ Well, I’ll do it.” 

Had Paul known Asa, he would never have 
made that promise, but wishing to gain his favor, 
he was willing to promise almost anything. 

That evening Miss Clara became generous 
enough to give a part of her society to Mr. Web- 
ster. Paul was delighted, and tried hard to 


GOT IN TROUBLK 


23 


make himself agreeable, It was not because 
Paul did not possess the ability or information 
for a conversationalist, but he was really too 
bashful to do justice to himself. Clara, whose 
mischievous disposition was but little less than 
her brothers, seemed to take special pains to 
render her lover uncomfortable. She sometimes 
seemed cold and distant, at others she was affa- 
ble and made him feel a little easy, until she 
would assume that frigid air which placed him 
again at a distance. 

But notwitstanding these strange moods on 
the part of this lovely creature, Paul passed a 
pleasant evening, and retired assured that he had 
won the heart of the lovely Miss Mullen. His 
brain was in a whirl. A vision fairer than an 
angel was before him. Those golden locks and 
bright blue eyes formed the picture which to him 
was perfection. Then her voice was sweet as 
tones of silver. All lack of culture could be 
overlooked in one so perfectly lovely. 

He was just sinking into a slumber to dream 
of golden-haired angels and bright blue eyes 
when he heard a low rapping at his door. 

“ Mistur, mistur, mistur, open the door," a 
voice said. He recognized it as the brother of 
that adored creature, and stopping only to draw 
on his pantaloons he opened the door. 


24 


HOW SIS^ BEAU GOT IN TROUBLE. 


'' It’s thar, come on,” Asa whispered the 
moment the door was opened. 

What is it ?’ 

'' The panther’s up in the big tree ; com’n see 
it.” 

I Now Paul did not care very much about see- 
ing a panther, but he had promised to go with 
the boy and hardly dared refuse. 

''Jest come right on, — don’t wait to put yer 
clothes on, coz everybody’s gone to bed.” 

Asa seized Paul by the arm and dragged him 
down a narrow stair way and before the bashful 
gentleman from Louisville had hardly realized 
it, he was going barefoot across the lawn which 
was not entirely free from pebbles and thorns. 
They reached a tree, and Asa whispered : 

" Go up — climb up quick ’r it’ll be gone.” 
Paul thanked his stars that he knew enough of 
rural life to climb, and soon went up the tree 
to its topmost branches. He had scarce got 
there ere the air resounded with the barks oj 
half-a-dozen furious dogs that rushed to the fool 
of the tree* Now Paul had a dread of dogs, and 
these were equal to bloodhounds. 

To his great horror at this moment he heard 
Asa Mullen’s voice in the house shouting : 

" Sis, Sis, git up’n go’n see what them dogs hev 
treed; I’ve hurt my foot so’t I can’t walk.” 


A8A*S MEFOBMATION, 


25 


CHAPTER III. 
asa's reformation. 

Asa, Asa, Asa,” cried Mr. Mullen from his 
bed where he had been roused by the furious 
barking of his canine pets. '' What s them dogs 
barkin’ at ?” 

“ They’ve got somethin’ treed.” 

Go’n see what it ’tis.” 

I can’t. I’ve jist sprained my ankle so’t I 
can’t hardly stand on it.” 

Mr. Mullen groaned. His injuries were such 
that he could not go, and he felt a strange con- 
viction by the fury of the dogs, that they had 
cornered some thief who had come to invade 
his strawberry beds, or early apple trees. 

“ Can’t ye see what it ’tis, Asa ?” he cried. 

Asa with a groan as if he was in great pain 
answered : 

“Yes, it looks like a nigger in a tree stealin’ 
water-melons.” 

“You infamous scamp,” cried the father who 
disliked the jesting mood of his dear little boy, 
“ if I only had you in reach and power to use 
my arms. I’d teach you that water-melons 
didn’t grow on apple trees.” 


26 


ASA^S REFORMATION. 


“ Hurry up, Sis, 'n don’t let him git away from 
the dogs,” cried Asa. 

Clara had already been aroused from the light 
slumber into which she had fallen, and the 
bright dream of that sad face which had been 
flitting before her vision, faded away, It is 
useless to say that she had been dreaming of 
Mr. Paul Webster, who at that moment was in 
the apple tree half dead with fear and mortifica- 
tion. 

“ Why, confound the little whelp,” said Paul 
to himself while his teeth chattered. “Is he 
going to expose me in this way. Good Lord 
— Miss Clara coming too, the dogs will tear me 
to pieces if I descend to run away — what must 
I do ?” 

At this moment he heard the voice of his 
youthful tormentor calling : 

“ Sis — Sis, why don’t ye hurry up. He’ll git 
away.” 

“ Why don’t you go yourself, Asa ?” the sweet 
voice of Miss Clara was heard to ask. 

“ Cos I’ve broke my leg,” the boy howled as 
if In extreme pain. 

“ Well, I’m coming as soon as I dress.” 

“ Never mind dressin’ ; ’taint no time when a 
nigger’s In a tree, to put on cloze.” 

Clara insisted an partially dressing at least, 
but her small feet were bare however, and her 


ASA^a BEFORMATIOHr, 


27 


pink toes peeped out into the moonlight beneath 
her skirt, as she stepped into the yard. What 
is it ?” she asked herself, slowly and cautiously 
approaching the tall tree around which the dogs 
were howling, barking and prancing in such a 
manner as to keep up a deafening din. That it 
was something there could be no mistake, though 
the thick leaves prevented her from seeing it. 

From his exalted position the horrified gen- 
tleman from Louisville saw the pretty country 
girl with her wealth of golden hair about her 
shoulders, her great blue eyes widely distended 
in wonder, like some bare-footed fairy in the 
moonlight tripping down the hill. She had 
never seemed so beautiful as now, and he in his 
awkward predicament seemed as if he would die 
in that apple tree. 

What is it ?” said the brave girl to herself. 
-"Who is there in the tree T she demanded. 
- Come down or I will get father’s gun and fire 
a load of shot into the tree.” 

She did this to frighten the thief, for she 
would not for the world have hurt any one, 
even if it had been a thief. 

- Oh — don’t Miss Clara— it is only me ?” 

Sis started in amazement, and a moment later 
began to titter. For a few moments she could 
not get command over her risibles, but as soon 
as she did, she asked : 


28 


REFORMATION, 


that you, Mr. Webster?” 

It is,” was the faint and despairing reply. 

“ Do you walk about in your sleep ?” 

'^Oh-no — I-I-I, no I don’t.” 

''Never ? What in the world are you doing up 
in that tree ?” she asked, breaking down and 
laughing until the tears streamed down hei 
cheeks. 

" I-I came here to s-s-s-s-see the panther. 
Miss Mullen.” 

"Well, you’ve seen it. I guess you had better 
come down,” said Sis, ^who now understood that 
her brother had, to use his own language, " broke 
loose again,” and perpetrated this joke on her 
city beau. 

" B-b-h-b-but I can’t ; the d-d-d-d-dogs will tear 
me to p-p-p-p-pieces,” stammered Mr. Webster. 

" Oh, yes — I will drive them away.” 

It was humiliating to a brave lover to have his 
adored one come barefooted to his rescue, and 
drive away the dangerous dogs which he dared not 
venture near. Sis seized a stick and soon sent the 
last howling cur to his kennel, and then returned 
to the house herself. Mr. Webster descended to 
the ground, and was just half way to the house 
when the dogs discovered him and again made 
at him. He had barely time to reach his tree 
once more, and climb to a place of safety, when 
they were all about him as determined as before. 


REFORMATION, 


29 



ASA^S BEFOUMATION. 


Sis who had seen her lover’s rapid flight, could 
not restrain her laughter. Like silver peals of 
rippling music it rang out on the air. The ludi- 
crous figure the gentleman from Louisville cut 
was enough to have made a stone laugh. She 
once more came to his aid and, driving the dogs 
away, guarded him to the house. 

With cheeks burning with shame Paul reached 
his room. He sat down by the bed wondering 
if he had not better walk to the station and take 
the next train to Louisville, when the door opened 
and the impish face of Asa Mullen was clearly 
outlined in the pale light which the moon shed in 
the room. 

‘‘ I say, mister,” he grinned, I come to ax ye 
ef ye’d seen the panther.” 

Men in a fit of desperation sometimes become 
brave as lions; and Paul had had enough to 
rouse him. He was no fool, and no coward, and 
much as he would have liked to spank that boy, 
he called him in. 

What yer want ?” Asa asked. 

Come in — I want to know if your ankle has 
got well ?” 

“ Wall, it’s improvin’,” said Asa with a grin. 

You’re a rather clever boy, Asa.” 

Asa thrust his tongue in his cheek. Boys can 
usually be thrown off their balance by subtle flat- 
tery, and Paul had determined to have revenge 


A8A*3 REFORMATION. 


31 


on this youngster. He would take revenge in 
some genteel way. He would match units with 
him and beat him at his own game. 

“ I say, Asa, you are a cunning boy. I mean 
you are cute ; don’t you understand me?” 

“ Reckin’ I do boss,” said Asa. Ye think I’m 
some pumpkins.” 

'' That’s it exactly. Now Asa the Fourth of 
July is coming, wouldn’t you like to have some 
fire crackers ?” 

Asa reflected a moment and seemed to think it 
would be right nice to “ hev a bunch to tie to the 
tail o’ pa’s hoss, an’ tech ’em o£f jest as he got 
on.” 

'' Well you shall have them, Asa, for you are a 
real interesting boy.” 

Asa assured him that he always endeavored to 
make it interesting for everybody around him. 
He gave the boy a silver quarter, and asked him 
if he did not suppose his sister thought him an 
awful coward. 

“ Naw,” said Asa. Sis knows them^dogs 
an’ kin make ’em mind her easy enough, but 
they’d a tore ye to flinders ef they’d a got hold 
o’ ye.” 

“ Now, Asa, don’t you really think you treated 
me mean ?” 

Asa hung his head, chewed his finger nails a 
moment, and said : 


33 


BEFORMATION. 


‘‘ Wall, Boss, I guess I did; but then I never set 
the dogs on ye.” 

Who did ?” 

“They jest sot 'emselves on ye.” 

“ Asa you should have come and rescued me.” 

“ I would ; but ye see I come to the house to 
git a gun for ye to shoot the panther, and when 
I was goin’ up stairs I fell, an’ thought my leg 
was broke.” 

“Asa,” said Paul, his emotions almost getting 
the better of his manhood. 

“ What ?” asked the penitent boy. 

“You must explain all this to your sister.” 

“ Oh, I will — I’ll make it all right with Sis, you 
kin jest bet,” said Asa, as if glad of any way of 
getting Mr. Webster out of his awkward dilemma. 

Paul would not trust the boy too far. His fun- 
loving, mischief-making propensity made him 
rather traitorous to even his friends. He bade 
him an affectionate good night, and as he left the 
room voted him the “ worst boy alive.” 

“ This is a pretty predictment for me to be in,” 
said the lover to himself as he once more turned 
into bed. “ I’ve a notion to go back home. I 
declare that I don’t believe I’m wanted here.” 

But next morning when be saw the bright 
sparkling face and felt the warmth of that sweet 
smile with which Miss Clara graciously condes- 
cended to greet him, he felt that it was good for 


n^mUMATlON, 


him to be there. Then both Mr. and Mrs. Mullen 
were sorry that the dogs came so near getting 
him, and really thought that Asa would be the 
death of all of them. 

“ He’ll be hung, I know it,” said Mr. Mullen. 

A boy that’s as full o’ mischief as Asa is, will 
be hung.” 

Asa hung his head, looked very penitent and 
twirling his straw hat a moment, said : 

“ I jest wanted Mr. Webster to see the big 
panther.” 

“ Panther, ye goose, thar’s no panthers round 
here,” cried the father angrily. 

Don’t ye know that big panther what flies up 
in the tree and goes hoot-a-hoot-a whoo-ah.” 

You brazen igeot, that aint a panther,” cried 
the father. 

“ What is it then ?” 

“ A owl.” 

Well, pa, he did’nt know the difference,” said 
Asa. 

“ If that confounded sheep had’nt bruised my 
shoulders, so’t I can’t use my arms. I’d teach you 
the difference,” responded the irate sire. 

Asa with an air of a boy very much injured 
dropped his head and slowly retired from the 
room. Mr. Mullen was a warm-hearted man. A 
reaction almost immediately took place in his 
sensitive nature. 


84 


A8A'8 REFORMATION. 


** Maybe I’ve done th’ boy wrong. Well, I’ve 
tanned his jacket so often that I guess he don’t 
know right from wrong.” 

What’re ye allers scoldin’ that child fur, Pap ?” 
asked Aunt Susan as Mrs. Mullen was usually 
known. 

“ Oh, mother, he’s so carnsarned mean, he’ll 
agravate the life out’n me. I’ll jest bet anything 
ef the truth was known, he’s the cause o’ Billy 
buttin’ me over, and cripplin’ me this way.” 

''Now thar ’tis agin. Everything thets done 
hes to be laid on thet child. It makes no differ- 
ence ef only a pet ram does something’, Asa’s to 
blame. Warnt he in the house, a kneelin’ over 
his cheer an’ jest as quiet as could be.” 

" But when he’s quiet, he’s allers a thinkin’ up 
some mischief.” 

Aunt Susan knowing that Asa’s pa was always 
too hard on him allowed that individual to have 
the last word. The old lady’s pink face had very 
few wrinkles, and in her neat white cap border it 
looked quite youthful. She was one of those 
females whose beauty ripens but never fades. 
Her’s was a mature beauty, and she seemed only 
to grow more beautiful by growiug old. The 
good-natured, laughing, mischievous Clara was 
like her mother, and promised to remain beautiful 
all her life long. 

They made Paul feel so welcome that despite 


ASA^S BEFOBMATION. 


35 


the mean trick Asa had played on him, he resolved 
to remain over Sunday and accompany Miss 
Clara to church. Asa seemed very penitent, and 
told Paul that he was going to be a better boy. 
He saddled the horses Sunday morning and 
night for Paul and Clara to ride to church, and 
really seemed under conviction. Clara was the 
most beautiful equestrian Paul had ever seen in 
his life. She was a graceful rider, and the exercise 
gave a bright glow to her cheek and added a 
sparkle to her eye. 

Mr. Mullen was a good old Baptist, but he 
entertained the Methodist circuit rider when he 
came around, just as willingly as he did his own 
preacher. He attended when either preached in 
the school-house, but at present he was “ laid 
up.” He instructed Clara to tell Mr. Caldwell, 
the Methodist preacher, whose Sunday it was to 
hold services in the school-house, to come and 
stay all night, and that gentleman knowing that 
Uncle Abram and his wife were good, whole- 
souled Christians readily assented, especially as 
Uncle Abram was laid up from a hurt. 

Paul found when he went to assist Miss Clara 
on her horse after night meeting was over, that 
by some mysterious manner their saddles had 
been changed, and not knowing very much about 
the gearing himself, was obliged to call a young 
farmer and rival, to assist him. Of course he 


86 


HOW ASA MADE THE 


knew not that the impish face of Asa Mullen was 
watching him behind a tree, yet as he rode home 
with Clara, he thought that perhaps after all the 
boy’s reformation might not be genuine. 


CHAPTER IV. 

HOW ASA MADE THE PREACHER STEAL A HOG. 

** Did ’ye ever see a bar ?” 

A wild bear ?” 

^‘Yes, sir.” 

No — not a real wild bear in the woods.” 

I hev.” 

Are there any about here ?” 

Yes, sir, — sometimes these ere woods is full 
o’ em.” 

It was Monday morning. The family had 
breakfasted and the Methodist circuit rider, Mr; 
Caldwell, was strolling about the house, gazing 
at those far-off blue hills, deep hollows, and pic- 
turesque scenery. He was a good man and loved 
nature. Those bold rocks on the bluff across 
the stream were a soft gray, reflecting the rays 
of the sunshine, and the dark green- old forests 
enough to delight any lover of the beautiful. 

Owing to Mr. Mullen’s accident, he had been 


I PREACHER STEAL A HOC. 37 

unable to get his corn planting completed, and 
his neighbors to the number of a dozen or two 
were to gather in that day to assist the hired 
negroes to complete it for him, and hoe out his 
cotton. Mrs. Mullen was to prepare a big din- 
ner, and both Mr. Caldwell and Paul had been 
asked to remain. Paul’s leave of absence having 
run out, he could not avail himself of this kind 
invitation, but there was nothing to prevent Mr. 
Caldwell, so he assented. 

Mr. Caldwell was a new man on this circuit. 
He had come from Ohio, and had not become 
thoroughly acquainted with Asa. He remem- 
bered now to have read of bears in some parts 
of the wilds of Kentucky, and supposed that Asa 
knew something of them. 

Asa showed the farmers what had to be done, 
and then gave them to understand that as he 
was to entertain the preacher that day, he would 
take a holiday. 

“ Have you seen a bear lately ?” Mr. Caldwell 
asked the boy. 

“ Yes — I saw a dozen this mornin’,” Asa 
answered. “ Kin ye shoot a gun ?” 

“ Oh, yes ; I have hunted turkeys and all sorts 
of small game, but I never got a shot at a 
bear.” 

Wouldn’t ye like to ?” 

j '' Why I should, very much,” said the minister, 


HOW A8A MADE THE 


who thought it would be an excellent thing to 
relate the actual adventures of a bear hunt at 
the next annual conference. 

'‘Wall, I tell ye what I kin do,” said Asa 
speaking rather confidentially to the minister as 
though he feared “some o’ the other chaps” 
would hear him and cheat them out of the sport. 
“ Do you go down under the hill, an’ wait fur 
me. I’ll git pa’s rifle and the bosses, you’r boss 
an’ one o’ pa’s, an’ we’ll go off an’ you kin shoot 
a bar an’ bring it in fur dinner ye know.” 

This little fraud on the part of Asa did not 
seem very bad to Mr. Caldwell. He thought it 
very reasonable that if those men knew there 
was game near, they would be sure to want to 
have a hand in the hunt themselves, and would 
doubtless neglect the work for which they had 
come. So Mr. Caldwell went to the bottom of 
the hill as directed, and in a few minutes Asa 
came to him with his own horse and a young 
half-broke animal which he rode himself, disdain- 
ing to use a saddle. 

“ Now jest wait a few minits longer ’n I’ll go ’n 
git pa’s gun.” 

“ Do you suppose he has any objections — ?” 

“ Objections, nuthin,^’ said Asa. “ Pa don’t 
keer, — course ye won’t hurt the gun.” 

The minister was in the power of this juvenile 
schemer, and had to abide his actions and desires. 


PREACHER STEAL A HOG. 


Then what harm could there be in his taking a 
hunt. He had come among these people for the 
purpose of converting them to Christianity, and 
in order to do so, he was willing to, in a certain 
measure, — as far as he dared, — adopt their cus- 
toms and habits. He would enjoy bear hunting, 
and knowing his horse to be swift and gentle, 
he knew there could be little or no danger in 
such an undertaking. 

Asa ran to the house as fast as his bare feet 
would carry him, and without allowing his 
parents or sister to see him, stole out his father s 
rifle, bullet pouch and powder horn. 

'' The gun s loaded, I reckon,” said Asa to 
himself as he stole along through a passage 
between the houses and darted, round the smoke- 
house. Here he called a halt to examine it him- 
self. Yes, there was a cap grinning on the tube, 
and there could be no doubt but that the old fire- 
arm was loaded. Ef he don’t git the buck 
ager, an’ll hold’er right, she’ll drop one o’ ’em at 
the fust crack,” said Asa with a chuckle. One 
who was acquainted with Asa Mullen would 
never have gone with him on a bear hunt. Mr. 
Caldwell in blissful ignorance of the terrible char- 
acter with whom he was dealing, smiled approv- 
ingly on the boy, and after glancing at the splen- 
did Kentucky rifle with some degree of pride, 
said : 


40 


HOW ASA MADE THE 


“ Now, my good boy, if you’ll show me where 
it can be found, we’ll have bear meat for din- 
ner.” 

'' Git on yer boss, an’ come ’long,” said Asa 
quickly. 

** Hadn’t I better help you on your horse ?” 

“ Naw, jist look at me,” and with a dexterous 
bound Asa placed himself upon the back of the 
half-broken colt. Mr. Caldwell vaulted into his 
saddle and rode along with Asa, who was very 
serious, — very solemn just now. 

Did ye say ye never hunted bar ?” 

''Yes, I said I never hunted a bear.” 

" Ever seed one ?” Asa asked. 

" Never, — a wild one.” 

"Wall, they’re jest the slyest things ye ever 
seed’n all yer born days.” 

"How, Asa?” 

"Cos ye jist see ’em a minit un’ the next minit 
ther gone. Ye’ve got ’t be mighty quick’er he’ll 
git away from ye.” 

" I’m a quick shot,” said Mr. Caldwell hope- 
fully. " If you will show the bear to me I’ll hit 
it.” 

"Ye’ve got to drap him jest the minit ye see 
him cos he’s so quick, he’ll be out o’ sight the 
next minit.” 

"I know it, Asa” 

"Ther the quickest things any one ever saw,” 


PREACHER STEAL A HOG. 


41 


I appreciate all you've said my dear boy,” 
said the Methodist preacher, who really began to 
think Asa one of the most remarkable boys he 
had ever met in his life. He was liable to be 
convinced in a short time that he was a most 
remarkable youth. 

The summer morning was glorious. The sun 
was shining above Hoynes Bluffs and the trees, 
clothed in their richest verdure, were filled with 
feathered warblers. Down below them, around 
which the road wound, was Miraldos Hollow, 
about which so many dark superstitions lingered 
that the negroes usually kept shy of the place. 
Then farther on was the Devil’s Teapot, which 
seethed and boiled from an immense sink or hole 
in the earth. There was a rocky precipitous path 
descending down from ledge to ledge until the 
Teapot was reached. It was nothing more than 
one of those boiling springs so common, and yet 
about which there were so many superstitious 
legends. Asa beguiled the minister with stories 
of the bluff, the Teapot, and. Miraldo’s Hollow 
where a Spaniard by the name of Miraldo had 
been murdered, and his ghost had been seen fre- 
quently walking about in the moonlight, groaning 
and shrieking as if it was in a terrible fix. Mr. 
Caldwell of course was skeptical as to the ghost 
business, but being one of those sensible men who 
doesn’t believe in hampering the youthful 


42 


HOW ASA MADE TEE 


imagination within the narrow limits of the pos- 
sible, let Asa go on. 

How far are we from the place where we will 
find the bears ?” he at last asked when Asa had 
in a measure exhausted himself. 

“ Oh jest a little ways round Mr. Dallyripple s 
fence in a canebrake, yer most sure to find ’em,” 
said Asa his eyes twinkling. '‘Now, Mr. Cald- 
well,” he said turning his mischievous yet appar- 
ently earnest eyes on the circuit rider, "Ye 
kin preach furst rate, but I’m afraid you can’t 
shoot straight.” 

"Yes, I can.” 

"Well, but I’m afraid you won’t be quick 
enough.” 

" I will ; whenever we are in the neighborhood 
of the bears, I will cock my gun and shoot the 
first one I see.” 

" But ye must shoot quick. Shoot before he 
gits a sight o’ ye, or a whiff o’ the air ; ef ye 
don’t he’ll wheel about and be a goner.” 

Mr. Caldwell was worked up to a point where 
he was ready to shoot at a black stump and think 
it a bear. He was assured that there was little 
or no danger of the bears attacking them, but 
that the main danger was in their running away 
the moment he discovered them. 

They came at last to the hunting ground and 
prepared for the conflict. Asa seemed to feel the 


PBEAGEER STEAL A HOG. 


43 


excitement. His eyes sparkled, and his cheeks 
were aglow, and he was delighted as only a four- 
teen year old boy can be at the prospect of a 
hunt. 

D’ye see that patch o’ caneyander, Mr. Cald- 
well ?” he asked, pointing to a small canebrake 
in the distance. 

^‘Yes,” answered the circuit rider, scarce less 
excited than the boy. 

‘'Wall they’re in that. Now, I’ll go round it 
an’ skeer ’em out this way, an’ the minit ye ketch 
a sure aim on one shoot. Ye’d better git down 
an’ take a rest off’n yer saddle. They go in 
droves, the bar’s do.” 

The unsophisticated preacher did as he was 
bid, and Asa making a wide circuit, using a world 
of caution, which Mr. Caldwell supposed was 
necessary in a bear hunt, was at last on the oppo- 
site side of the canebrake. 

Mr. Caldwell, waiting with cocked rifle only 
about a hundred paces from the bear infested 
canebrake, heard the shout which Asa was to 
give and drive the bears out. Soon he saw the 
cane and tall grass agitated by a drove of animals, 
fleeing toward him. By a desperate effort he 
steeled his nerves and held his rifle in a hand 
that did not tremble. It was not long until he 
saw the outline of a jet black object, and taking 
a quick but sure aim at it, he pulled the trigger. 


U HOW A8A MADE THE PREACHER STEAL A HOG. 


There was a sharp report accompanied by a 
sort of a squeal, and a dozen other dark objects 
which had been almost in sight ran off. Mr. 
Caldwell hurried up to the spot to find a large 
black hog just in the last agonies of death. At 
this moment Asa came galloping into view. 

“ Wall,” Mr. Caldwell, ye throwed one o’ em did 
ye, he cried. 

'' Yes, — but, Asa, it’s not a bear, it’s a hog.” 

Is it ? wall, now, that’s a dog on pity.” 

I would not have killed another man’s hog, 
for my right arm.” 

“ She’s a fat ole Berksheer sow, too ; make 
good meat.” 

“ What will we do, Asa ?” asked the preacher 
with a deep sigh. 

Do ? Oh ! take it home o’ course. It ’d be a 
sin to let a fine fat hog lay here ’n spile. Pa kin 
find out who it blongs to an’ pay ’em.” 

This seemed very reasonable, and the preacher 
asked him if he could not take it on his horse. 

“ Oh, no,” said Asa, shaking his head. My 
colt won’t carry nothin’ ’tall. I’ll help it up to 
you, but my colt won’t carry dead meat.” 

After many exertions by the united effort of 
man and boy the hog was put on Mr. Caldwell’s 
horse, and they started home. As they w^nt 
along home Asa reflected : 

That’s Mr. Dallyrjpple’s old Berksheer so\^’t 


BOV/ ASA MADE THE PHEACBEH STEAL A HO^, 45 



“ I’ll help you lift it, but my colt won’t carry dead meat.” — 

Page 44 . 



46 


ASA^S PA PUZZLED. 


he thought so much of. He”ll swear a blue 
streak.” 

Mr. Dallyripple was helping his father that 
day. It was noon when the hunters returned. 
Mr. Caldwell carrying the game before him. The 
hands to the number of a dozen were in the front 
yard. The moment they were in sight of them, 
Asa laid whip, and galloping up, shouted : 

'‘Preacher Caldwell stole a hog! Preacher 
Caldwell stole a hog !” 


CHAPTER V. 
asa’s pa puzzled. 

“Thar Susan, — some other mischief broke 
loose,” cried Mr. Abram Mullen who was sitting 
near the window. 

“ What’s the matter now, Abram ?” 

“ That confounded boy’s been playin’ some 
kind o’ trick on the parson.” 

Mr. Mullen was enabled to walk about now by 
the aid of a cane, and seizing his big crooked 
stick, he hobbled out into the front yard. 

“ Asa, Asa, ye scamp, stop that thar yellin’ — 
what d’ye mean ?” 

“ Preacher Caldwell stole a hog.” 


A8A^8 PA PUZZLED. 


47 


** What, you scoundrel ; what do you mean ?” 

** Yes he has, pa ; thar he comes with it now,’' 
said Asa, and, as if to prove what the boy had 
said, Mr. Caldwell rode up to the gate and threw 
down the hog he had slain. 

Mr. Dallyripple who had come to the gate 
grew furious the moment he saw the dead hog. 

“ Look’ee here parson,” he cried in a voice full 
of fury, What’n thunder’d ye kill my fine Berk- 
sheer sow for ?” 

“ I-I-I-I didn’t intend to do it, sir. 

** Ye didn’t th’ell ye didn’t, but ye did. Now 
I’m not goin’ to stand this any longer. My best 
Berksheer sow killed ; why ye’ll steal my boss 
next ” 

“ I beg pardon,” gasped Mr. Caldwell, who 
being a new man on this backwoods circuit 
expected to be lynched. 

“ Beg pawdon ; beggin’ pawdon don’t pay me 
fur my sow.” 

Stop now, Dallyripple,” cried Abram Mul- 
len, don’t ye know the preacher’s here.” 

“ Preacher ! yes a preacher what kills hogs. 
The country’s full o’ sich preachers.” 

Please let me explain,” implored Mr. Cald- 
well, so extremely mortified that he felt as if. he 
would faint on the spot. 

’Splain, thunder, I’d rather you’d pay me fur 
my hog.” 


48 


ASA^S Pa PUZZLEP. 


'' ril do it. What is the price of your hog. 
I will pay you for it and you may have the 
pork,” said Mr. Caldwell, somewhat roused at 
the unjust treatment he had received. Mr. 
Caldwell was a conscientious man of God, and 
would have lost his right arm rather than have 
done this deed. Mr. Mullen who was the soul 
of generosity, and having a strong premonition 
that his son was in some way responsible for the 
act, now brought affairs to a peaceable termina- 
tion by buying the dead hog of Mr. Dallyripple. 

Now, gentlemen,” said the good minister 
when everything had been satisfactorily termi- 
nated, “allow me to explain matters if you 
please. I must do so to set myself right before 
these people. I went out this morning to kill a 
bear.” 

“ A bear — ” roared every one in astonish- 
ment. Then Mr. Mullen added, “why, parson 
thar haint been a bar in this country fur twenty 
years.” 

“ Well, brother Mullen, if there is not, your son 
is certainly not altogether truthful.” 

“Truthful,” cried the irate father. “ He’s the 
biggest liar, and fullest o’ wickedness o’ any boy 
around here.” 

Asa finding his reputation for truth and verac- 
ity in danger, now came forward to his own 
defence. 


PA PUZZLED. 


49 


“ I heer’d some ’un talkin’ about thar bein’ 
bulls an’ bars in town, an’ I thought ’at may be 
them black things I saw war bars got out ; but 
they war Mr. Dallyripple’s hogs.” 

“ Sambo,” Mr. Mullen called to a tall, slender 
darkey who was drawing water for the horses. 

“Yes, sah.” 

“ Do you want to make an extra two bits.” 

“ I does, sah.” 

“Well jist ketch Asa and bring him down 
under the hill close to the spring house.” 

Asa knew what was coming. He had dis- 
mounted from his horse and made him fast to a 
sapling just beyond the gate. He sprang to the 
horse, but Sambo equally as quick, sprang to the 
boy, and in a moment had him collared, before 
he could get>the colt released and mount. 

Asa was not to surrender so easily. He 
kicked and fought and struggled like a mad 
man, but the promise of two bits had a stimu- 
lating effect on Sambo, and he clung to him like 
grim death, dragging the struggling, fighting boy 
down the hill, where the old man Mullen had 
gone, and was already cutting switches. A few 
minutes later Asa’s howls kept time with the 
measured strokes of his pa’s arm. He was 
released and went off to enjoy a season of rest, 
and form some plan of getting even with his pa. 

“ Sis,” he said that night when all the guests 


60 


A8A'8 PA PUZZLED. 


were gone and he found himself alone with 
Clara in the kitchen, ‘'don’t you think pa treated 
me real mean T 

“ You did very bad, Asa,” she answered. 

“ How T 

“ By making the preacher shoot Dallyripple’s 
hog, and having old man Dallyripple scold the 
way he did.” 

“ Law, sis, I didn’t make him shoot the hog ; 
I didn’t tell him to kill the hog. I took him out 
thar to kill a bar, ’n if the fool can’t tell a hog 
from a bar he’d better give up his license an’ quit 
preachin’.” 

“ Oh, Asa, I don’t know what will become of 
you.” 

“ I do.” 

“ What ?” 

“ Pa’ll kill me.” 

“ Oh, hush.” 

“ Yes, he will ; now see ’f he don’t.” 

Clara who had really laughed herself at the 
serious joke played on Mr. Caldwell, told Asa to 
go away and not bother her. 

Next morning Asa was sad. He went to the 
field to help Jake and Sambo some, for the 
neighbors had not got quite all the planting 
done. He worked faithfully all morning, and 
at noon ventured for the first time in his 
father’s presence. 


ASA'S PA PXTZZLBP. 


51 


Pa,” he said in a deep solemn voice. ‘‘ I hed 
a awful bad dream last night, ’n I b’lieve its goin* 
to come true.” 

“ What was it, my .son ?” 

‘‘ I drempt you killed me.” 

“ What ? — killed you ? — killed my little boy. ?” 

‘'Yes, pa. I drempt you killed yer little boy. 
I thought I was tryin’ to do somethin’ right, 
an’ jest as I allers do I done it wrong, ’n you took 
a gun an’ shot me.” 

It is useless to say Mr. Mullen was deeply 
moved. He feared that the severe chastisement 
of Asa the day before, might in some way have 
deranged his brain. 

“Asa, d’ye feel sick?” he asked tenderly. 

“ I don’t feel very well,” the boy sadly 
answered. 

“ Come here and let me see if you have a 
fever.” He placed his hand affectionately on 
the brow of his little boy, and turning to his 
wife said, “mother, his head’s real hot.” 

Asa was at that moment as sick a looking boy 
as one would often see. 

“No, pa — I’m not sick,” he said with a sigh. 
“ It’s the dream, nuthin’ but the dream that’s 
worryin’ me.” 

“Never mind the dream,” said the father, 
“ you’ll forget it soon.” 


52 


PA PUZZLED. 


“But, pa, did you know Tve tuk to walkin’ 
about in my sleep,” said Asa. 

“No child, have ye ?” 

“Yes, I hev. Why tother night I waked up, ’n 
found myself way down the hill ’n the big hickory 
tree.” 

Mr. Mullen opened his eyes wide with wonder. 

“ Why, Asa, what ’f ye’d a fell ?” 

“No danger, pa, ’nless some one’d tried to wake 
me. Sleep walkers don’t fall by ther selves ye 
know.” 

Mr. Mullen gazed in admiration and wonder 
upon his son. Surely never before had he 
seen such wisdom displayed by a youth, as he 
expressed. He had heard that the brightest 
flowers wither soonest, and might not this bril- 
liant intellect indicate an early death ? 

“ Asa,” said the kind father, his warm heart 
overflowing with affection, “ Don’t ye know’t I 
wouldn’t hurt my little boy fur nuthing’ in the 
world. Oh, Asa, don’t ye know how yer pa loves 
ye ?” 

“ I expect ye do, pa ; but then ’t seems that 
when I try to do things right I allers do ’em 
wrong. I ’bleve I’m goin’ to be killed,’n then I’ll 
be like the ghost o’ Miraldo’s Holler goin’ bout 
groanin’ and wailin’ all the time.” 

“ Oh, Asa, my little boy, hush. You have 


FA PUZZLED. 


53 


worked too hard, you must rest the remainder of 
the day.” 

Asa was not really a lazy boy. His only 
objection to work was that it interfered with his 
business. He wanted the afternoon before him 
to plan for the evening’s amusement. Back of 
the woodshed in a corner sacred to himself, he 
might have been found that afternoon quite busy 
with a suit of his own clothes. 

He has a pile of cotton before him, and was 
deliberately stuffing his old clothes. In fact Asa 
was making an effigy which was to be a second 
self. He worked faithfully — Asa always worked 
faithfully when his heart was in the work^ and 
now all his energies were engaged. 

The effigy grew under his skillful hand until a 
second boy was behind the woodshed. It was an 
exact counterpart of Asa. No artist could have 
accomplished the work better than Asa, and in a 
dim light the effigy would have been easily mis- 
taken for a boy. The head was made by stuffing 
a narrow pillow case with cotton and squeezing a 
hat upon it. Asa having completed his work 
stood back and gazed at it with a critical eye. 
Innate mischief was expressed in every lineament 
of his features as he declared to himself : 

“ Guess that’ll do.” 

The reader is doubtless wondering at what 
Asa is driving. Had he been near the old 


64 


ASA FA PUZZLED 


Mullen homestead that night about midnight, 
and seen how busy he was in the maple tree 
which gr^w at the window of his father’s bed- 
room, an idea of some scheme would doubtless 
have come to his mind. 

Asa was in the tree-top and dragged the effigy 
up after him. It had a string attached to it, by 
which he could at a jerk bring it down to the 
ground again. Asa was busying himself with the 
effigy for some minutes, when he got it fastened 
to suit his notion and then descended from the 
tree. 

He climbed down very cautiously, for it was 
not his intent at that moment to rouse any of the 
sleeping household. Asa very quietly and pru- 
dently roused the dogs and brought them to the 
tree. He showed them the object in it, and in- 
stantly they began to make the night hideous with 
their wild howls and yelps. Around and around 
the tree they circled, barking and yelping all the 
time, waking every member of the household. 

'‘Susan — Susan,” cried Uncle Abram starting 
from his bed, “ What ’n the name o’ the Lawd 
hev the dogs got treed now.” 

“ I don’t know, Abram,” his wife answered, 
“ unless its another nigger in the plum tree.” 

“ Ef I ketch a nigger in my plum tree I’ll git 
my gun an’ pepper him,” cried Abram. 

Asa was only a few feet away from the tree 


ASA*S PA PUZZLED. 


65 


lying behind a small rockery, holding to one end 
of string, while the other was attached to the effigy 
in the tree, when his father appeared on the 
porch with his gun. Asa saw the old gentleman 
gazing, steadfastly up into the tree-top, until he 
made out the outline of some large animal or 
person. ^ 

Susan — Susan,” he said softly to his wife, who 
was just behind him, “ It’s somethin’ ; it’s either 
a panther or a man, an’ I’ve atiotion to let fly at 
it.” 

The dogs yelped and howled so fiercely about 
he at last determined to let fly. Cocking his gun 
he brought it to his shoulder and pulled the 
trigger. Now it so happened that Uncle Abram 
had the old smooth bore gun, which Asa had 
charged three times over that day with powder 
and beans. There was a tremendous explosion, 
and Abram was kicked backward against his wife, 
and both sent sprawling to the floor. 

Just as he got up Abram heard a scream, a 
groan, and the words : “ Oh, pa, ye’ve killed me,” 
smote in his ears. At this moment the horrified 
father saw an object about the size of his own 
little boy come tumbling down from the tree-top. 
From limb to limb, branch to branch it fell, until 
at last it struck the ground, and to his horror the 
dogs were on it rending it to pieces. 


56 


A DOG FIGHT IN THE DAEK, 


“Oh, good Lawd, Susan,” screamed Abram. 
“ I’ve killed Asa, my own dear little boy.” 

Aunt Susan grew faint and leaned against the 
doorway for support. Her husband flew to the 
dogs, beat them right and left, until he had seized 
a mangled object of about six pounds weight in 
his arms, and bore it to the porch. 

“ Susan — Susan, what is this ?” he asked in 
amazement. 

She did not dare gaze at the mangled form of 
her son, and sank down to the floor. Abram 
held the mangled efligy in his arms and was not a 
little puzzled, until a snicker from behind the 
rockery attracted his attention ; and the shouts 
of real agony from Asa, soon assured his mother 
that he was not dead. 


CHAPTER VI. 

A DOG FIGHT IN THE DARK. 

The neighborhood in which the Mullen family 
lived was noted for being rather better morally 
than the adjoining neighborhoods. The sprees, 
the fights and dances were fewer in this particular 
valley than on the ridge, or across in Pember- 
ton’s Bottom or Wild Cat Holler. True, old 
Pallyripple was regarded a hard case, and there 


A Doa FIGHT IN THE DARK, 


57 


were many other cases equally as hard, but 
these were more than ofif-set by such staid Chris- 
tians as Abram Mullen, Jasper Daniels, and old 
Uncle Johnny Crocket. These three were strict 
church members, and never did anything bad. 
True they did go to log-rollings sometimes, and 
drank a little too much warm toddy, but in those 
days warm toddy was thought to be necessary 
for a man’s health. No one could get along 
without toddy, eggnog, or tanzy and whiskey in 
either extremely warm, extremely cold, or medi- 
um weather. 

It was Mr. Jorden Culbertson s tirfie to hold a 
meeting at the school-house, and he came on Sat- 
urday to give this neighborhood two days instead 
of one of his time, Mr. Culbertson was a good 
old-fashioned Baptist, who made up in noise what 
he lacked in eloquence. Since Asa s last prank 
on his parents, he had been a very good boy. 
To use his own expression he really felt easier. 
Asa, of course, was not a very bad boy. His pa 
did not think he was, unless it was immediately 
after some of his “awful capers.” He rather 
thought Asa was “ just a boy.” 

“ Pa,” said Asa on the Saturday Mr. Culbert- 
son was to preach in their school-house, “ Pm 
goin’ to do better, won’t you let me go to church 
to-night ?” 


58 


A DOG FIGHT IN TEE DARK. 


Asa’s pa looked at him a moment, and then 
said : 

'‘If I wasn’t afraid ye’d do some mischief afore- 
the meetin’ was over, I wouldn’t keer, Asa, but it 
seems that ye can’t go nowhere nor do nothin’ 
without gittin’ into some kind o’ trouble.” 

" It seems to me that way too, pa,” said Asa 
with sadness in his voice. " I don’t try to be a 
bad boy, but I can’t help it. People don’t quite 
understand me I reckin.” 

“ I’m afraid most of ’em don’t, Asa.” 

“ ’F they did they’d see ’twas all in fun.” 

Abram Mullen looked savage at his little boy 
for a moment, and replied : 

" Yas, Asa, that’s the trouble wi’ you. You 
are too much in fun. Ef ye’d hev a leetle grain 
o’ earnestness about ye, ye’d not be climbin’ into 
trees an’ puttin’ up dummies fur dogs to bark 
at.” 

" I didn’t know ’twould wake ye, pa.” 

"Wake me, ye little igeot ; wouldn’t it wake a 
dead man to have a dozen dogs howlin’ and yelp- 
in’ that close to him ?” 

" Wall, pa, I won’t do so no more. Won’t ye 
let me go ’t meetin’ ter night ?” 

I would never do to keep his own dear little 
boy away from church. He might after all 
reform, so the father consented. Asa was very 
well pleased with his father’s decision, even though 


A DOG FIGHT IN TEE DABK. 


69 


he gave it with the following addenda : — '' Now, 
see here, Asa, ef I see or hear o’ any o’ yer car- 
ryin’s on t’ night. I’ll wallop ye within an inch o’ 
yer life.” 

But then Asa cared nothing for this threat 
He wanted to go to '^meetin’,” and he had been 
walloped within an inch of his life so often, that 
he really did not care if he got there once more, 
before shaking off this mortal coil. Asa went to 
the school-house alone. He was allowed to ride 
his favorite colt and whistled to Blanche his fa- 
vorite dog to accompany him. Had Blanche 
stayed at home we do not think there would 
have been any trouble, but his going was a sad 
thing for that meeting. Asa reached the school- 
house and made his horse fast to a sapling. 
The building stood in a grove of small trees 
upon a slight eminence, and one could not see it 
until they were almost to it. Here Asa attended 
school during winter, and had received more 
whippings beneath the roof than there were shin- 
gles on it. He was regarded as the worst boy 
in the neighborhood, and if a day passed with 
him unwhipped, the school directors thought 
the teacher derilect in his duty. 

Asa having made his colt fast to the sapling, 
called Blanche softly, to assure himself that the 
dog was on hand, and then looked at the various 
horses and vehicles standing in the grove. 


60 


A DOa FiaHT IN THE DARK 


There was a great temptation to do some mis- 
chief, but Asa controlled himself and went to the 
house. It was already dark and the house was 
dimly lighted with a single tallow candle which 
Uncle Johnny Crocket had had the forethought 
to bring with him. 

There were a few boys standing outside the 
school-house, and these tried to get Asa to 
remain outside and have some fun ; but Asa had 
really determined to reform. He tried hard to 
say, Get thee behind me, Satan,” as his good old 
mother had told him to do when tempted, but 
was unable just then to think of the words, so 
went into the house. Blunche followed him. 
The school-house was almost twice as long as 
wide, and had long benches with backs to 
them for the scholars in school, or the people 
''at meetin’ to sit on.” These were arranged 
lengthwise with the house, so the audience sat 
" sidewise,” to the preacher, who was behind a 
small stand-table on which was a small candle, 
the only light in the room. 

The room was pretty well filled when Asa 
came in, and he had to go forward within four 
or five feet of the stand. Blunche still followed 
him. It was regarded, however, as no breach of 
decorum to allow your dog to accompany you to 
church. 

Asa’s pa, who had preceded the precocious 


A DOG FIGHT IN THE DARK, 


61 


youth, was pleased to see him up in the ''Aye- 
men corner.” 

" If old brother Culbertson says anything 
t’night, I guess it’ll soak in on Asa,” Uncle 
Abram thought. " He’s jistgot near enough to 
hear it all.” 

Blanche crouched at his young master’s feet. 
On a seat almost opposite Asa, just across the 
narrow aisle, sat Sally Blow. Now Asa did not 
like Sally very well, and he hated her brother 
Dick Blow, because he had got many a hard blow 
from him. Dick Blow’s favorite dog Tige had 
come with Sally, and crouched at her feet. 
Blanche didn’t like Tige one bit better than Asa 
liked Dick Blow, nor did Tige like Blanche. 

Rev. John Culbertson was behind the slight 
stand which did not weigh to exceed six pounds 
even when the candle, his pocket bible, and the 
hymn book were on it. The parson at last rose, 
“ lined a familiar hymn,” and asked the congre- 
gation to sing it. 

Old Uncle Johnny Crocket had a reputation 
as a singer, and he "started the song.” One, 
two, then three voices joined in, and at last the 
entire audience with a few exceptions, seemed to 
ignite and all went roaring on with more^r less 
discord. High above all the others, leading 
them through the doubtful mazes of a jerky 


62 


A DOG FIOBT IN THE DARK. 


tune, could be heard the voice of old Uncle 
Johnny. 

It was during that song that Blunche discov- 
ered his old enemy Tige, who had crouched at 
Sally Blow’s feet. Blunche growled and showed 
his teeth, but the noise was too great for his 
ominous growl to be audible. 

Tige’s attention was directed to the naked calf 
of an urchin over on the men’s side, and his 
mouth was watering to get in one good square 
bite, and he did not observe the challenge of his 
old enemy. The song was ended, prayer v/as 
offered, and then came two or three verses of 

When I can read my title clear — ” 

Then Rev. Culbertson took his text. We 
don’t remember just what the text was, nor does 
it make much difference as far as the sermon 
was concerned. Rev. John Culbertson was an 
old timer who never allowed himself to be 
hampered by a text or the new fangled idea of 
sticking to the subject. He always began at 
Genesis and usually closed with Revelations, so 
his text might be found anywhere between the 
first chapter of the former and the last chapter 
of the latter. 

He referred to “ Nl-cod-emus ” who said mar- 
vel not.” He became very enthusiastic as he got 
heated up, and pounding the small stand till he 
made the solitary candle dance, he bawled out ; 


A DOG FIGHT IN THE DARK. 


63 


“ And, oh ; remember my brethern and sisterin’ 
that Nl-c5d-emus said marvel not. Oh ! — I see 
before me a great many little boys, ah! and I 
wonder as I gaze over them ef they would marvel, 
ah I Oh, my dear, ah 1 little boys, ah I If I could 
only git you to think on the wickedness of mar- 
velin’, ah! ye’d foller the advice o’ Ni-cod-emus 
and marvel not, ah ! The other Sunday as I was 
goin’, ah ! to meetin’, ah ! I saw some boys marvel- 
in’, ah ! They had little round, white and brown, 
marvels, ah ! and one great, tall, lank-lean-shank- 
twisted-feller said ‘ I’m fat,’ ah ! which in the face 
of Gwpd and man was a lie. ah ! and then another 
low an’ stumpy fat an’ dumpy boy, who was ’n 
the best o’ health said ‘ I’m dead,’ ah ! which in the 
face o’ Gwod an’ man was another lie, ah ! Oh ! 
boys, take warnin’ from these sins, fly from the 
wrath to come ah ! ah ! in the language o’ my text 
foliar the example o’ Ni-c5d-emus an’ marvel not, 
ah !” 

The dogs had been watching the sledge-ha m- 
mer-like strokes which fell with wonderful regu- 
larity on the stand, and somehow there seemed 
to be something belligerent about them. 

Blunche showed his sharp incisors to Tige, 
and growled, and Tige returned the compliment. 
The old feud between the canines was revived, 
and Asa remembered how he hated Dick Blow 
and how much Dick liked Tige, so he thought he 


64 


ASA'S PA BECOMES A MEDIUM. 


might get a little second-hand revenge out of 
DicL He stooped over and patting Blunche on 
the side, said in a whisper : 

Blunche, ye kin jest shake the wool ofen that 
dog. Go in on yer muscle.” 

Receiving the approval of his master Blanches 
hair rose, and he rose with it. Nothing but the 
lion-like voice of Mr. Culbertson could have 
drowned the growls of the dogs. Asa backed 
Blunche with his foot, and the dogs met half-way. 
Fierce yelps, sharp growls, screams and scuffles, 
under the stand, over and over, round and round, 
swinging, yelling and shaking, and everybody get- 
ting out of the way — what a racket ! The 
preacher ceased marveling,” and made for a 
window. At this moment the stand went over 
with a crash, carrying in its fall the only candle, 
and all was utter darkness. 


CHAPTER VIL 
asa's pa becomes a medium. 

Well, no one was severely hurt in the dog 
fight, unless it was the dogs themselves. Blunche 
had a divided ear, and Tige had a sanguinary spot 
on his nose, and Mr. Culbertson had an echymosed 
eye. Some of the others had bruised shins from 



The Preacher ceased ‘ Marveling * and made for a window.”— 
Page 64. 





66 


A8A*8 PA BECOMES A MEDIUM. 


falling over the benches in the general stampede 
for doors and windows, and others were consider- 
ably scratched and squeezed, but fortunately no 
bones were broken. 

Asa managed to get out whole, and spent the 
next day. Sabbath as it vras, in dressing the 
wounds of his dog. There were some vague sus- 
picions in the neighborhood that Asa was in some 
way responsible for the dog fight, but of course 
he resented these slanderous insinuations with 
the righteous indignation which they justly 
deserved. Asa had one thing to regret, and that 
was that the candle went out. The fun of seeing 
the general stampede, the falling over benches 
and scrambling for dear life, was all obscured in 
the darkness. 

Asa,” said our hero’s pa next day. 

“ Well, pa,” said Asa very meekly — for Asa was 
always meek when his sire seemed to have vague 
suspicions of his evil conduct. 

“ 1 tell ye, Asa, I half believe you sot them 
dogs to fightin’.” 

“ Who ! me, pa?”' 

‘‘ Yes, you.” 

'' Why ye don’t think I’d be that mean, do ye ?” 

Asa’s pa was not without his weak failings and 
he seemed to almost melt. He was a conscien- 
cious man and for worlds would not have accused 
his little boy wrongfully, and when Asa rubbed 


PA BECOMES A MEDIUM. 


67 


his slightly inclined to a pug nose with his sleeve 
and said, “ Why, pa, I thot’ ye hed a better 
opinion o’ me,” the old man was willing to yield 
to him, and said : 

“Well, we’ll jest consider that yer pa was 
jokin.” But lem, me give ye a pinter : ef ye 
want the dust to ’cumulate in the back o’ yer 
jacket, leave Blanche at home the next time ye go 
to meetin’! 

“I’ll tie ’im when I go,” Asa declared. 

“ Guess ’twould be best.” 

There was no more preaching in the school- 
house for three weeks, until time for Mr. Cald- 
well to come round. Asa seemed to have sud- 
denly sobered down to a real good boy. One 
afternoon he and his sister were in the kitchen 
together. Asa usually made a confident of Sis, 
and we must confess it right here, much as we 
like this pretty but naughty belle of the blue 
grass region, that she not infrequently helped to 
shape and put the finishing touch to some of 
Asa’s more refined jokes. It is true that Asa 
seldom required any assistance in anything he 
undertook, but when he did he found his sister 
willing and ready to polish and shape his jokes. 

“Sis,” said Asa as he sat poking a stick into 
the spout of the hissing teakettle, “did ye ever 
see any spiritual rappins ?” 

“ No.” 


68 


A8A*8 PA BEG0ME8 A MEDIUM. 


“ D’ye think ye’d like to be a medium ?” 

'‘No, I want nothin’ to do with it,” Sis answered, 
as with her sleeves rolled above her dimpled 
elbows she busied herself picking the stems off 
of the large plump strawberries. Reaching over 
to the pan and helping himself to a handful of 
the most choice of the berries, Asa said : 

“ Then ye don’t believe in sperits.” 

" No.” 

“ Neither d’wi ’nless it’s some kinds, ’n usully 
the kind what people puts in jugs ’n bottles. 
When a man fills hisself full o’ sperits and starts 
through a graveyard on a dark night, more’n 
likely he’ll see the sperits outside o’ hisself afore 
he goes by. But then. Sis, I guess arter all thars 
somethin’ in them speritual rappins’* 

"Why, Asa.” 

" Cos everybody seems a goin’ crazy over 
’em.” 

" I guess no one of a very strong mind has 
gone crazy.” 

" Oh, yes, they hev. Sis,” said Asa solemnly. 
" Bates nigger Lize’s as crazy as a bed bug, ’n ye 
know she wus a mighty knowin’ nigger.” 

" Oh, Asa, hush.” 

" Why Sis ?” 

" Cause it’s such nonsense.” 

" Wall, now, ’taint no sich a thing ; why our pa, 
who ye know’s the strongest-minded man ’n the 
world, may be a b’liever in sperits ’fore long.” 


I ASA’S PA BECOMES A MEDIUM. 69 

“ Who, pa, a speritualist ? never !” 

: “ Bet ye a dollar he is.” 

“ I won’t bet, Asa — ” 

“ Cos ye ’blong t’ the meetln, well ef ye’ll do’s 
I say, he’ll be a b’liever ’n a week.” 

Sis laughed incredulously, and her pretty 
fingers flew among the rich tempting berries. 

“ Will ye do’s I say.” 

“ Yes.” 

. “ Sure pop ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Honest Injun ?” 

“Yes.” 

Having administered his oath in his usual form, 
binding Sis to secrecy, he then revealed to her a 
plan which made the pretty Clara Mullen laugh 
until the tears trickled down her pretty little 
cheeks. 

“ Oh, Asa, you’ll surely be hung,” she screamed 
with merriment. 

“ Now, Sis, don’t ye give me away,” said Asa 
solemnly, 

“ I wont.” 

^^And ye’ll help.” 

Yes.” 

^ “ Well, I’m goin’ to see pa about it this very 
night, ’n I guess he’ll consent. I think it’ll be 
all right.” 

“ What, consent to be humbugged ?” 


70 


ASAS PA BECOMES A MEDIUM. 


Why, yes, Sis. People never object to bein’ 
humbugged ’n these days, 'n why should pa ?” 

'' Oh, Asa, you’re too bad. You’ll be the death 
of us all.” 

“ Well, you see. Sis, I aint a goin’ to tell pa he’s 
goin’ to be humbugged. When the patent 
medicine man comes round sellin’ burdock root 
syrup ’n bread pills, he don’t go t’ work ’n tell 
pa what ’tis, but jest humbugs ’m without lettin 
’m know it. No’n can be humbugged ’f they 
know it. I’m goin’ to humbug pa, but I aint 
fool enough t’ warn him in advance.” 

That evening Asa met with his father and 
mother in the sitting-room instead of worrying 
the cat, or annoying the cows as was his wont. 
There was a serious look upon the dear little 
boy’s face which his parents were not slow to 
discern. What had produced it ? They were 
not exactly alarmed, and yet Mr. Mullen felt 
just the least bit uneasy. 

“ Asa, are you well ?” his mother asked. 

“Yes, ma.” 

“Well, what makes you look so solemn my 
dear little boy.” 

“ I was jest a thinkin’ ’bout somethin’ I’ve 
hearn a deal ’bout lately.” 

“ What was ’t, Asa ?” 

“ Pa, ’d ye ever hear the spiritual rappins ?” 

“No.” 

“ D’ye believe in ’em.” 


PA BECOMEIS A MEDIUM, 71 

Naw — it’s all a humbug, that’s all that there 
is of it.” 

“ Id’n know, pa.” 

‘‘ Ye don t ? and Abram Mullen fixed his eyes 
on his son. “ What d’ye mean ?” 

'‘I’ve hearn some strange sounds ’n noises 
which I can’t zactly understand some way. Dun 
know what they mean.” 

“ Oh, pshaw,” said Mr. Mullen quickly. I 
don’t believe thar’s anything in ’t.” 

“Well, pa,’f ye’d a heern the knockin’ and 
thumpin’ round the barn ’t I have, ye’d think 
quite different I’m sure.” 

“ ’Twas pecker woods.” 

“ No ’twarnt — pecker woods don’t be knockin’ 
an’ thumpin’ round o’ nights, ’n I know ’twarnt 
nobody, cos I couldn’t see any one round ’tall.” 

“ Well, what wuz it, Asa ?” 

“ Sperits.” 

“ Fudge.” 

Asa sat for a long time with the air of an 
injured boy who intended to be good. “ Naw, 
pa, ef ye heerd ’em yerself, wouldn’t ye believe 
in ’em.” 

“ I dun no. I think I’d find out some way o’ 
known ’t they wus no sperits.” 

“ Ye wouldn’t do it though, cos ye can’t see 
sperits, but pa ’f ye’ll some o’ these times hev 
Sis fix the big table fur ye arter supper, when 
no ’n but you an’ iria are ’bout an’ then put yer 


72 


ASA’S PA BECOMES A MEDIUM. 


hand on’t an' ax ef thars any sperits present 
please rap, 'n they’d rap, would ye ’bleve it ?” 

Mr. Mullen grew very thoughtful and said that 
he didn’t know, but under such extraordinary 
circumstances he might be forced to the convic- 
tion that there was some truth in the sperits.” 

Asa went back to Sis triumphant, and the two 
sat right down and took a good hearty laugh in 
advance. It was simply an overdraft on their 
prospective bank account of fun which was soon 
to follow and more than balance for it. Asa and 
Sis were both solemn that day, very solemn. 
Asa scrutinized the kitchen extension table very 
carefully. It was made with a large hollow box 
beneath, in which leaves or dishes could be 
stored. The two centre leaves turned back 
revealing the opening. 

'' It’ll do,” Asa declared. 

That night at supper Asa told his pa that he 
was going over to stay all night with Tom 
Thrasher. Mr. MuUen and his wife exchanged 
glances with each other and looked somewhat 
relieved. 

Sis, ye can bring the big table in the settin’- 
room,” said Abram Mullen. I want to read 
some to-night, ’an the candle sets better on ’t than 
on the stand.” 

For some strange, inexplicable reason Asa got 
choked on the pieces of bread he was eatings and 
had to leave the dining-room. When the supper 


A3A*S PA BECOMES A MEDIUM. 73 

things were cleared away and the heavy old table 
pushed up in one corner Sis called Aunt Sukey 
and Jude to help her and had it carried to the 
sitting-room. 

‘‘ Dis table am awful heavy,” said Aunt 
Sukey. 

“ Mus’ hab somefin’ in dat box,” suggested 
Jude. 

'' It’s only the dishes,” said Sis, fearing they 
might take it into their heads to give it a thor- 
ough examination. 

Well, den, ef dem ain’t de heaviest dishes 
what I eber saw ’n my life,” said Jude. 

But the table was carried from the kitchen to 
the sitting-room. 

'' Where is Asa ?” asked Mr. Mullen. 

“ Didn’t he say he was going over to stay all 
night with Tom Thrasher ?” Sis evasively 
asked. 

'' Oh, yes, he did. Well, I guess he’s gone. 
Asa is a good boy, but he’s a leetle inclined to 
be mischievous,” said Mr. Mullen. “Now 
bring in the candle. Sis, so ’t I kin read, ’n you 
may go to bed.” 

Sis lighted a candle for her father and placed 
it on the table. Her face seemed veryired, and 
for some strange, unaccountable reason she 
seemed liable to strangle, but she got out of the 
room without her parents observing how 
strangely she was affected. 


74 ASA^S PA BECOMES A MEDIUM. 

Asa’s pa picked up a newspaper, adjusted his 
glasses and seemed to be reading, but evidently 
he was hot much interested in the subject, for 
the paper was upside down. Occasionally he 
cast furtive glances at his wife, and she returned 
them. They both looked about the room with 
a strange sense of guilt or superstition about 
them. 

At last Mr. Mullen folded his paper as though 
he had done reading and laid it down upon the 
table. He placed his spectacles in their case, 
and looking at his wife, said : 

‘‘ Ma — d’ye reckin’ thars anything it ’t ?” 

‘Hn what?” asked Aunt Susan in as careless, 
off-hand manner as she could assume. The 
woman with her spectacles upside down had been 
dropping stitches and taking them up, in her 
endeavors to knit all evening. 

' In speritual rappings.” 

I dun know.” 

'' Well, I don’t.” He sighed and, after a 
moment, said : “ Guess it ain’t no harm to lay 
one’s hands on the table.” He placed his hands 
on it and said : “ Ef thar ’ar any sperits present, 
please rap.” 

Two distinct hollow raps came from the centre 
of the table. Both Mr. Mullen and his estim- 
able wife sprang to their feet, upsetting their 
chairs as they did so. But they sat down once 


PA BECOMES A MEDIUM. 


75 


more, and as far as was possible regained their 
coolness. 

'' Die you hear nuthin’ ?” asked Mr. Mullen, 
his hair standing almost on end. 

“ I tho’t I heard a rappin’.” 

'' It m ist o’ been a cat.” 

''Try again.” 

A second time he placed his hand upon the 
table and received three loud and distinct raps. 
They were not so much frightened as before, but 
Mr. Mullen fixing his eyes upon his wife said : 

" Thars somethin’ in this.” 

" Ax ’em ef thars a medium in the room,” said 
Mrs. Mullen. 

" Ef thars a medium in the room, please rap ?” 

Rap-rap-rap. Three distinct raps as if 
coming from the knuckle of a skeleton rang out 
from the sepulchral-like vault of the table. 

" Ef I’m a medium rap three times.” 

Rap-rap-rap, came the three distinct raps. 

" Blazes, Susan, I’m a medium, too,” said Mr. 
Mullen, starting to his feet, gazing with widely 
distended eyes at his wife. 

That evening passed in mystery ; in conversa- 
tion with the dead. The knocking or rapping 
language is the pri-mitive language of the spirit- 
ualists. It even antedates the slate writing. By 
means of this language Mr. Mullen aad his wife 
conversed with long deceased friends. 

Next day Mr. Mullen asked Uncle Johnny 


76 


PA BECOMES A MEDIUM. 


Crocket, Mr. Daniels, and Allen Tucker to come 
to his house, bring their wives and spend the 
evening. They agreed to, and when Asa learned 
they were coming, asked another leave of 
absence. Knowing he would play som o practi- 
cal joke on the ghosts if he stayed, his parents 
consented. 

Night came and Mr. Mullen had the heavy 
old table brought in the sitting-room, that he 
might astonish his neighbors with his wonderful 
performances as a medium. Sis was asked to 
come in also, and be a witness to the invisible 
mysteries of the other world. 

She came ; stuffing her handkerchief in her 
mouth and keeping out of the direct line of 
vision of either of her parents. Everybody 
was wonder-struck at the awful rapping. Every- 
body had some dead freind to ask about. The 
candle burned low and the rapping grew decid- 
edly loud and ominous. The good, awe- 
stricken people shivered, though it wasn’t the 
least bit cold. Having asked about every dead 
person of whom they had ever heard and read, 
they asked about the living : 

“Where is George Maxley ?” asked Uncle 
Johnny Crocket. The spirit by raps spelled out 
Kaleforny'" “Where was Tom Crocket?” 
“ Oamahaw'" 

% Where is Asa Mullen ?” The dear little 
boy’s pa asked. 


ASA Wijsrs A RAGE. 77 

** Under the bunk, by jingo/' cried a voice 
from under the centre of the table, — the leaves 
parted in the centre, flopped back, and a grin- 
ning face appeared. Sis came very near dying, 
but Asa's pa after the first shock of horror and 
astonishment had passed, began hunting for his 
well-used strap. Asa in the meanwhile scram- 
bled from the box under the table where he had 
been playing spirit, and got away. Uncle 
Abram found his hands full in explaining to his 
neighbors that he was no party to the joke. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

ASA WINS A RACE. 

** Hello ! Nick, 's thet you ?” 

The speaker was Asa Mullen, and he hailed a 
tall, slender man, mounted on a tall, slender 
horse, trotting along the road which wound 
around the deep basin-like hole in the earth, 
from which issued the steam and vapor of the 
Devil's Teapot. Summer had waxed and waned 
and autumn was approaching, though in this semi- 
tropical region autumn has few chilling blasts, 
and is not dreaded as in other countries. The 
sky was clear and the green on the trees was 
only of a richer, deeper tint, it could scarce be 
said to be tinged with brown. The hills and 


78 


ASA WINS A RACE. 


woodlanci in Kentucky must be seen to be 
appreciated, and must be seen by an apprecia- 
tive eye. Asa was as usual barefooted, with his 
large straw hat on his head. He carried a fish- 
ing rod in one hand, and kept the other free to 
throw stones at the birds with which the woods 
were filled. He evidently knew the man he had 
accosted and was on familiar terms with him, for 
the stranger drew rein, and turning up the broad 
brim of his hat, said : 

“ Why, hello Ace, is that you ?” 

“Yes, sir-ree, big as life,” was the response of 
this incorrigible specimen of Young America. 

“ I’m glad I found you, Asa,” said the man, 
who was dressed something like a sporting gentle- 
man of the blue grass regions. 

“Why?” and Asa thrust his tongue in his 
cheek while his blue eyes sparkled with innate 
mischief. 

“Asa, I’m in trouble ; can’t you help me out ?” 

Asa seemed to think he could if any person 
could. He assured Mr Nicholas Collins that he 
was always ready to give a helping hand in an 
hour of need. Nick Collins was a country sport. 
He attended all the fairs, drove and rode fast 
horses and bet heavily on the races. He had 
been tolerable fortunate, never losing any large 
amount, and always managing to rake in a pretty 
good haul in the end. 

Nick threw his left leg over the horn of his 


ASA WINS A RACE. 


79 



“‘Under the bunk,’ cried a voice from the center of the table.”— 

Page 77. 


80 


ASA wms A BACE. 


saddle and taking out his knife began paring his 
finger nails. 

'‘Well, Asa, it’s this, — there’s a Lexington 
sport been out here and he’s made some purty 
big banters on his horse, an’ I warnt agoin’ to be 
backed down by him, an’ so I made a bet.” 

“ When’s the race to come off ?” asked Asa 
with his head bowed thoughtfully. 

“ Next Chuseday, and I want ye to ride fur 
me. I expect he’ll have somethin’ that’ll down 
me, but I warnt agoin’ to let him back me out ’n 
that way.” 

“ How much did ye put up.” 

“ Five hundred on a side.” 

“ What 3^e bettin’ on ?” 

“No particular animal. I jest bet I’d hev one 
that’d beat his Lexington horse.” 

“ That’s good,” said Asa nodding his head in 
approval. 

“ It’s a runnin’ race, is it?” 

“ No ; it’s a trottin’ race.” 

“ That’s all right,” said Asa. 

“ Asa, I want you to ride for me. Can’t ye 
slip away and come over an’ do it ?” 

Asa studied for a moment, then asked : 

“Where’s it goin’ to be?” 

“At Brownville.” 

“Well, yes, I reckin’ so. What ye goin’ to 
trot, Nick ?” and Asa thoughtfully pushed his hat 


ASA WINS A MACE. 


81 


back from his broad, high brow, and thrust one 
hand into his pocket in a meditative mood. 

“ Tm goin’ to trot my big roan.” 

“ Don’t ye do ’t, Nick?” said Asa in an awful 
tone of warning. 

Why ?” asked Nick in some alarm. 

Cos don’t ye do it. Ef ye do ye’ll git 
scooped by that Lexington feller. Better take 
the advice o’ some one who knows ’bout sich 
things, ’n don’t ye trot old roan.” 

‘Why, Asa, that’s the best I can do. I’ve got 
none other that I can begin to keep up.” 

“ Wall, then, jest lem me alone to find an ani- 
mil. I think I know somethin’ ’at can trot bet- 
ter ’n the Louisville feller’s boss.” 

“What ’ll ye find, Asa?” 

“ Don’t ye never mind about that now,” said 
Asa with an air of one who was equal to almost 
any emergency. “ I guess I know jest what I’m 
about, and f’ll be on hand with a animil that’ll 
clean out that Lexington feller’s boss. Whar’s 
the race to be?” 

“At Brownville.” 

“That’s five miles from pa’s. I’ve got to git 
some excuse to go there next Chuesday ; but I 
kin fix that. Who’s the Louisville feller?” 

“Sammy Flaxseed.” 

“ Why, by jing, that’s one o’ Sis’s beaux. 
Well, won’t it be fun though t’ fix him.” 

, “ I wish we could beat ’im.” 


82 


ASA Wim A RAOB. 


- We kin.” 

IVe heerd that he has a horse that can out- 
trot anything in Lexington.” 

“ I’ll bring a animil that can trot faster’n a 
steam engine.” 

Nick Collins seemed to have the most implicit 
confidence in Asa Mullen. He was satisfied that 
Asa knew of some animal in his part of the 
neighborhood that could trot ; but it might be 
that Asa was over-estimating the animal’s value. 

He came in two days again and had a private 
interview with Asa, and they went together and 
had a private interview with Tom Thrasher, Asa’s 
chum. Tom thought that Asa had not misrep- 
resented matters, and Mr. Nick Collins left 
pretty well satisfied that everything would come 
out all right. The blue grass region produces 
the best blood in America, and as you may find 
the most perfect beauty in a hovel, so you may 
sometimes find the finest animals the property of 
the poor man. At any rate Nick was satisfied, 
and went home laughing in his sleeve at the way 
he was to take in the chap from Louisville. 

The morning for the race came. Brownville, 
a small insignificant cross-roads post-office, with 
two or three odd houses, a blacksmith shop, and 
a general country store, was noted for its loafers. 
Here the aged and young assembled, the former 
to discuss and the latter to listen to the discus- 
sion of the political questions of the day. A 


ASA WIN’S A RACE. 


83 


horse race at Brownville was sure to bring a 
large crowd of idlers, and sometimes they were 
not the most genteel, and inoffensive people in 
old Kentucky. It was nothing uncommon at 
those races for whisky to flow freely, and blow- 
to be struck, or knives and pistols used. Halfs 
a-dozen other horses had been entered, and the 
race promised to be an exceedingly rare one. 

Sammy Flaxseed, who backed the Lexington 
horse, was on hand. Mr. Flaxseed was one of 
those microcephalous gentleman who is very 
precise in everything ; — a dandy, a genteel sport, 
and particularly interested in dogs and horses. 
He had an affected way of talking, and seemed 
habitually short of breath. 

“Well, ah! Mr. Collins,” said Sammy, rub- 
bing his small hands together, “ isn’t it abodt 
time for the race ?” 

“ No ; lacks half-a-’nour.” 

“ Is your animal on the ground ?*' 

“ He’ll be here in time.” 

“ I’m afraid he will not, ah I Mr. Collins.” 

“ Ef he ain’t, the money’s yours,” said Collins, 
uneasily glancing about and muttering to him- 
self, “why ’n the thunder don’t Asa come on.?” 

The race track had been made, raked and 
leveled and everything was ready. Sportsmen 
had been for the last half-hour leading horses 
along up and down the track to familiarize them 
with it. The time was about up. Horses were 


84 


ASA WINS A HACK 


called to the line, and still the animal on which 
Collins had staked his money had not appeared. 

Just as the last horse toed the mark, Asa Mul- 
len, mounted on a large red bull, trotted up and 
wheeled into line. There was a murmur of sur- 
prise and indignation. 

“ That s my animal he’s on,” cried Nick. 
“ Give the word.” 

The word to go was given, and the horses and 
bull sped away on the track. The bull trotted 
well, and showed excellent training. But a wild 
unearthly bellow caused every horse to break 
and sent them scampering in every direction, 
while Asa Mullen rode straight to the goal, and 
was declared the winner. 

“ It’s not fair ; it’s not fair,” cried Flaxseed. 
“ I, ah ! did not bet on a bull.” 

“ No, but ye bet on a animal,” said Nick, “an’ 
my animal’s won.” 

“ ’Taint fair !” shouted a dozen others, and in 
a moment pistols and knives were flourished in 
the air. Such scenes in Kentucky are not 
always got up just foi fun, and the most appre- 
hensive people got out of the way. 


THE GHOST OF MIBALDOH HOLLOW. 


85 


CHAPTER IX. 

j THE GHOST OF MIRALDo’s HOLLOW. 

Things began to assume a lively aspect. Had 
Sammy Flaxseed been the only one offended by 
the practical joke of Nick Collins through Asa 
Mullen, Nick might have came out very well ; 
but as he had made half-a-dozen other horses fly 
the track by the bellowing bull, their several 
owners, and ten times as many friends of owners, 
felt that they had been outraged. 

The melee began by some one striking out and 
hitting some one. Then somebody struck back, 
and whack, whack, with wonderful rapidity thy 
blows fell. Two or three were down. Sammy 
Flaxseed’s silk hat was knocked from his head, 
and he sent whirling head over heels into a gut- 
ter. 

It is a remarkable fact that when men get into 
a fight, they strike about them rather careless ; 
and then they hit so hard that if a fellow chances 
to be in the way he don’t hardly know whether 
it’s a lightning express or a cannon ball that 
struck him. 

Asa was of course enjoying the fun. He felt 
real sorry that Nick, his friend, got his face most 
beautifully punched, but he didn’t care one cent 


86 TEE GHOST OF MIRALDGS HOLLOW. 

about Sis’ Lexington beau getting knocked into 
the gutter and having his clothes spoiled. 

'' He orter had more sense ’n to wear fine 
clothes to a boss race,” Asa declared. 

The justice and the constable came up in time 
to prevent any serious trouble, and after a drink 
all round everybody shook hands and agreed to 
be friends, talked over other races and other 
fights and compared them with the present little 
affair. 

There was one who took no part in the general 
jollification after the fight, and that was Mr. 
Sammy Flaxseed. 

Oh — ah ! it is perfectly horrid,” he said to 
himself as he brushed the mud off his clothes. 
“ My hat, ah ! is gone, and I can’t never get my 
clothes clean any mo’; just when I intended call- 
ing and spending a pleasant time with that daw- 
ling Miss Mullen, ah ! That fello’ from Louisville 
will get the start of me, ah ! I greatly fear; but I 
must go back to Lexington until these horrible 
bruises on my head are healed, before I call on 
my adored.” 

The fellow from Louisville would beyond a 
doubt have been very thankful for the event which 
temporarily removed a rival as dangerous as 
Sammy Flaxseed. The following Friday evening 
brought our friend Paul Webster again to the 
rural home of Mr. Mullen. To say that Paul 
was dead in love with the beautiful Clara would 


THE GHOST OF MIRALBOH HOLLOW. 


87 


be a mild way of expressing his feelings. He 
had determined time and again to propose to her, 
but somehow he had always failed when the 
proper time came. He seemed to choke up, and 
was really never so dashful as when in her pres- 
ence. 

Paul had done all he could to make friends 
with Asa. ‘ The promised firecrackers had come 
all right, and Asa got his jacket tanned for using 
them in the way he had indicated. 

When Paul came this time he went to Asa with 
a nice present brought from Louisville, and 
promised him a pocket rifle if he would never 
perpetrate another trick upon him. Asa promised 
of course ; what boy wouldn’t promise anything 
for a pocket rifle ? Asa meant to keep his 
bargain when he made it and entered into the 
agreement with his sisters best beau, as he styled 
Mr. Paul Webster ; but Asa was yet to learn that 
the spirit was willing and the flesh was weak. 

Paul was bashful as usual. That natural timi- 
dity, or rather modesty, which had been allowed 
to over-develop itself into bashfulness, he 
seemed as if he could never overcome. 

But everything seemed propitious on this visit, 
and he was sure that this was the time to termin- 
ate all and lay his heart at Clara’s feet. Surely 
she had never seemed so lovely in all her life as 
now. Her laughing, roguish blue eyes seemed 
to have a depth of tenderness in them which he 


88 


TEE GHOST OF MIBALDO^S HOLLOW. 


had never noticed before. She was so gracious 
as to devote all her time to him, and though she 
did laugh at some of his awkward blunders, it 
was a sympathetic sort of a laugh. She was 
dressed as became her beauty, and her golden 
hair which seemed to radiate with sufficient bril- 
liance to dispel the darkest gloom, hung in a 
mass of flashing ringlets about her shoulders. 
Her saucy lips were like ruby and when she 
spoke there never was seen such perfect teeth of 
pearl. She seemed, as she sat there before her 
lover, laughing and smiling and showering dimples 
upon him, to provoke him to madness. Every 
time those ruby lips parted with a smile they 
seemed to say : 

Wouldn’t you like to kiss me now ?” 

Poor Paul, we feel sorry for him, who would 
not? He was sometimes sure his love was 
returned, and sometimes he was not. 

That evening he met Asa trying to break a calf 
for a riding horse, and said : 

Asa, I want to ask you a question, and I 
want you keep this matter a profound secret.” 

I’ll do’t, ye bet,” said Asa, jerking the refrac- 
tory calf to its knees. “ Woa, ye fool — ye aint 
a goi.n’ to git away from me s’ easy as ye think.” 
Then, addressing Paul, he added : Oh, yes, Mr. 
Webster, me an’ you’re solid. We’re old pards, 
we’re ; an’ what ever ye give me I’ll keep, ye 
better bet.” 


TEE GHOST OF MIBALDGS HOLLOW. 89 

Well, Asa, keep this, for I would not have it 
known for the world.” 

You may call Paul a fool, and we’ll stand 
between you and danger. Paul will not be 
offended if you should do so, for to tell the truth 
he has long since found out himself that he was 
a fool. Every man living has discovered that he 
was a fool when in love, if he should have sense 
enough to make the discovery. Paul had sense 
enough, and owns up like a man now. 

“ What is ’t, Mr. Webster ! Pll keep’er,” said 
Asa. 

“ I just wanted to ask you if you thought your 
sister liked me ?” said Paul, feeling very much as 
if he had made a fool of himself the moment he 
uttered the words. 

Asa cocked his hat on one side of his head, 
stuck his big toe into a craw-fish hole, and glanc- 
ing askance at Paul said : 

‘"Well, boss, bein’ as ye put yer question 
straightfor’ud, ye see, Pll make a pinted answer. 

I b’lieve Sis does kinder hev a hankerin’ arfter 
ye ; but she’s got so many beaux that it’s some- 
times mighty hard to tell which one she’s goin’ to 
tumble to. But my candid ’pinion is ’f them 
blasted Lexington dewds warn’t in the way ye’d 
hev a fust-rate show. But why don’t ye go right 
in ? Ax her, that’s the way to’ find out,” said 
Asa with some little contempt for a man who was 
not brave enough to propose. 


90 TEE GHOST OF MIBALDO'8 HOLLOW. 

Oh, Asa, what would she do ?” said the bash- 
ful lover. 

“ Couldn’t more ’n kill ye.” 

But she might drive me away. She might 
never allow me to see her again.” 

“ Wall, that’d be a deal better ’n settin’ on the 
ragged edge o’ despair and not knowin’ whether 
ye die with yaller jaunders or git fat. Sometime, 
when yer with Sis, jest pop the question, that’s 
the way I’d do. She won’t do no wuss’n laff at 
ye ; ye kin surely stand that, I reckin.” 

I was \his laugh which frightened out poor 
Paul. He could not bear to have her make fun 
of him, and felt that he would surely die if she did. 

But Paul took Asa’s advice to himself and 
pondered well over it. He, of course, was to stay 
until Monday at the home of his adored. It was 
not uncommon for young fellows to come court- 
ing in the country, and stay two or three days. 

Saturday afternoon he and Clara took a stroll 
about the dear old homestead. Every tree, and 
rock, and bush, and twig, and stump, and hill, 
and thorn patch, seemed to have become 
endeared to our hero. It was the home — the 
birthplace of the fairest being he had ever 
known. It was an earthly paradise to him. 

What could be more pleasant than to stroll 
down those paths carpeted with green vervet 
grass, to see the Autumn flowers and fruits on 
every hand, to hear the birds filling the air with 


THE GHOST OF MIBALDGS HOLLOW. 91 

their melody, and above all, to have that earthly 
angel at his side, her sweet voice sweeter than 
the birds, or sparkling cascades. It was loveli- 
ness to perfection. It was perpetual and ecsta- 
tic bliss to our gentleman friend from Louisville. 
Sing on sweet birds, murmur on gentle brooks. 
Paul Webster could live forever in this present 
state, and ask no better heaven. In spite of 
himself he found his tongue wagging in a strange, 
unaccountable way. He spoke something which 
seemed' to issue spontaneously from a badly con- 
fused brain, and then he heard silvery laughter 
like rippling peals of music which convinced him 
that the fair being at his side was more terres- 
trial than angelic. 

Did ever the rural districts of old Kentucky 
look half so fair as now. He never saw pastures 
so green, shades so cooling, and waters rippling 
over tiny cascades so pure. They wandered on, 
and on, seeming to be in a fairy-land, and Paul 
not knowing or caring whither their footsteps 
led. They had descended into a sort of a valley 
or ravine, and were strolling along, he in a state 
of rapture hardly to be described. 

D' you know where we are ?” she asked, as 
they at last paused near enough to a great dash- 
ing waterfall to be within ear shot of the tremen- 
duous roar. 

No, Miss Mullen, I — I don’t know that I 


care. 


92 


THE GHOST OF MIBALDaS HOLLOW. 


'' Are you not afraid of ghosts ?” 

“ No — are you ?” 

''Not much.” 

" Are there any ghosts here ?” he asked. 

"Yes — this is Miraldo’s Hollow.” 

"Miraldos Hollow, — I don’t know that I ever 
heard of it before.” 

" Havn’t you? Well its haunted.” 

" Oh, yes ; I guess I have heard Asa speak of 
it.” 

" Didn’t he say it was haunted ?” 

" Perhaps he did.” 

" It is said to be haunted by a Spaniard who 
was murdered here a great many years ago, when 
this was only a backwoods country.” 

Paul had it on his tongue’s end to ask if it 
was not still a backwoods country, but fearing 
that it might offend the being whom he loved so 
dearly he refrained. She went on to tell him an 
old legend of how Miraldo had been mysteriously 
murdered, and of the supposition that he had a 
large amount of treasure buried somewhere and 
came back regularly to visit this earth. Miraldo’s 
waterfall was a place where a considerable 
stream of water plunged over a bluff about thirty 
feet high into a pool, and then found an outlet 
between some rocks. There was usually a fine 
spray about this cataract, and in the spray the 
spirit form of the murdered Miraldo was often 
seen. His groans and cries when the night was 


TEE GHOST OP MIBALDGS HOLLOW. 93 

dark and the wind howled dismally down the 
ravine caused the listeners blood to run cold. 
Strange sights had been seen in this hollow, and 
strange sounds had been heard. Spirits and 
demons, when the storm raged wild, seemed 
shrieking and fighting in the air. 

But what cared he for Miraldo’s ghost, so long 
as he was with the being he adored. There was 
something in the atmosphere which seemed to 
inspirit him with a new life and vigor. His 
tongue was unloosed, and he talked more freely 
to the object of his affections than he ever had 
before. 

Their talk breathed of love. It was not of 
love, but was love itself. He felt that he was 
made a new man. There were no vows, save 
the vows made with two pairs of loving eyes. 
Neither Paul nor Clara remembers what was 
said. Both were too deeply absorbed in each 
other’s society to take heed of the flight of time. 
The sun dipped down behind the western horizon, 
and from out the east there peeped twinkling 
stars. The dark gray shadows in the valley 
grew deeper and deeper until night had set in, 
and still the lovers were all unconscious. All 
at once Clara, uttering a scream, started up, and 
cried : 

“ Oh, look ! look Paul, it’s there now !” 

“ What is it, where ?” he asked. 

Miraldo’s ghost.” 


94 THE GHOST OF MIEALDOH HOLLOW. 

Paul Webster had never known what fear 
was before. He could have charged a battery, 
faced a wild lion or tiger of the jungle, but that 
white-robed figure which seemed floating 
through the air toward them was more than flesh 
and blood could bear. 

In God’s name go away !” yelled Paul. 

Sis gave utterance to a shriek and swooned, 
and Paul was really so ignoble as to wheel 
about and start to run, when a voice called out : 

Hold on thar, ef yer that big a coward ye 
needn’t never expect to be my brother-in-law.” 

Mr. Webster in his horror had fallen upon his 
knees, clasped his hands, and was puzzling his 
brain to think of some prayer he had known. 

A peal of laughter from the insensible girl 
convinced him that he had been made the sub- 
ject of a trick, and with all the grace he couid 
command he returned to where the pretty Clara 
Mullen was holding her hands to her sides, 
while the tears trickled down her pretty cheeks. 
The ghost was disrobing itself, and had quite an 
unghostlike appearance since he had discovered 
who it was. 

Asa,” said Paul sharply, “ is this keeping 
your promise with me ?” 

'' I ain’t a doin’ nothin’,” Asa answered. 

‘‘ Miss Mullen, hadn’t I better take you home, 
the night air might give you cold.” 

Sis assented, and still convulsed with laughter 


ASA 2AKE8 BILLY SMALLTRASB SNIPING. 95 

at the figure cut by her luckless beau she took 
his arm. 

Asa followed along behind, wondering how 
many stripes he would get for this. 

“ Guess I better compromise this thing with 
Sis’ best beau afore he gits where pa is, or my 
hide won’t hold shucks,” thought Asa. 

Before Paul reached the house Asa expressed 
a desire to see him on a private matter ; and 
when Sis’ best beau had conducted her to the 
house he returned to Asa. The boy informed 
him that Sis’ second beau Billy Smalltrash, who 
was a Lexington dude with an old gold mus- 
tache, was coming next Saturday to see Sis, and 
if Mr. Webster would just let up on him, and 
not say anything to his pa about the ghost of 
Miraldo’s Hollow, he, Asa, would sell that dude 
out in such a way he would never come back 
again. 

Of course Paul entered into the agreement. 


CHAPTER X. 

ASA TAKES BILLY SMALLTRASH SNIPING. 

Asa was not telling a falsehood when he 
informed Sis’ best beau, as he called Mr. Webster, 
that Billy Smalltrash was coming out from 
Lexington to court Sis. On the appointed day 
Billy came. 


96 ASA TAKES BILLY SMALLTRASE SNIPING. 

Reader, did you ever see a Lexington Kentucky 
dude ? If you ever did, then there would be no 
need of describing Billy Smalltrash, but for fear 
you have never had that distinguished privilege 
we will take it upon ourselves to give you some- 
thing of the general outline of the man, and the 
rest your imagination can supply. 

The Kentucky dude differs a little from other 
dudes, and the Lexington dude has distinct in- 
dividuality. Like all other dudes he parts his 
hair in the middle, carries an eye-glass, and his 
coat is cut a la swallow-tail, and his pants are 
tight ; but then we think he can talk more and 
say less than the ordinary dude. 

The distinctive difference between a Lexing- 
^ ton dude and other dudes is, that the Lexington 
fellow can lay it onto all dudedom in’ soft talk. 
Then he has a dialect peculiar to himself. He 
can press his hands closer together and whisper 
soft nothings about nothing. The Lexington 
dude is born with a yard-stick in his hand ; of 
course he’s a counter-jumper. He can handle 
soft goods to peifection, and chat with a pretty 
customer in a most entertaining way. But on 
all solid questions he is a blank. 

When Billy Smalltrash arrived at Mr. Mullen’s 
house, it was with a thorough appreciation of his 
own superiority. He was not troubled with the 
bashfulness which seemed liable to wreck the 
hopes of Mr. Webster. He had a superabun- 


Asa takes billy smalltbask sniping. 9 t 

dance of self-esteem, and had come to the con- 
clusion that out in this backwoods rural Kentucky 
district, he would be regarded a prodigy in good 
looks, good dress, and good sense. 

When the creature arrived Asa gave it a careful 
and critical examination, and went to the kitchen 
where Sis was making pies. 

Well, Sis, he’s come,” said Asa, I tell’n’ ye, 
yer Lexington beau, with his old gole mustache, 
thinks he’s old persimmons.” 

“ Now, Asa,” her smiling, dimpled face growing 
serious, “don’t you go to playing any tricks.” 

“ Tricks — nuthin,” said Asa with a little smile 
of contempt. “ D’ye spose a feller is always 
goin’ to keep hisself in a straight-jacket jest 
because yer beaux are round. No, I’m not. I 
b’lieve in everybody being free.” 

Half-an-hour later Asa was in the best-room 
forming the acquaintance of the Lexington dude 
with the old gold mustache. 

Asa could be a very affable young gent when 
he took a notion to, and though he with his bare 
feet and frowsled hair was aborrent to the refined 
Lexington dude, Mr. Smalltrash determined to 
tolerate him, because he was the brother of that 
adorable creature whom he loved almost to 
desperation. 

Gradually Asa drew the Lexington dude out, 
until he got him out of the house and quite to 


98 ASA TAKES BILLY SMALLTEASH SNIlUm. 

himself in the front yard, and down to the 
orchard, where he unburdened his soul to him. 

Did ye ever go a huntin’ ?” he asked. 

'' Oh, ah, yes, my deah boy, I’ve gone aw’ hunt- 
in’ a great many times, aw — indeed I have.” 

I like ter hunt.” 

Aw ! so do I. I never go for nuthih’ nyther. 
I eyther bring in some game, aw ! or I stay out 
till I am more successful.” 

Well, boss, I guess yer fond o’ huntin’ aint 
ye ?” 

‘'Aw! very; very fond of hunting, my deah 
boy aw 1 I am very successful, too.” 

“ Did you ever hunt snipes ?” 

“Aw, yes. I’ve shot snipes.” 

“ Long bill snipes, or them kind what we call 
plovers.” 

“Well, I guess may be they were called 
plovers.” 

“ Oh, shucks ; ye don’t know nuthin bout 
snipes then,” said Asa with a sort of a half-formed 
sympathy for the dude’s ignorance. “Ye don’t 
know what fun is till ye go snipin’. We don’t 
hunt ’em with guns.” 

“You don’t, awl then you hunt ’em with 
do’gs.” 

“ No, not with dawgs neither.” 

“ How do you hunt them then ?” asked the 
dude with no little curiosity depicted in his 
manner. 


ASA TAKES BILLY SMALLTBASS SNIPING, 99 

We hunt them with bags.” 

“ With bags, aw ! what do you mean, aw ? 
I have hunted with elephants, dogs, horses, and 
almost every conceivable way any one can think, 
but I never yet hunted with bags.” 

I though ye didn’t know very much ’bout 
snipes when ye war a talkin’, cos ye see whenever 
an ole snipe-hunter like me hears o’ snipes, the 
next thing he thinks about is bags.” 

‘'Aw, my young friend, how do you hunt 
snipes ?” 

“ After night.” 

“ Is that so ?” 

“ Ef it hadn’t a bin I wouldn’t a told ye so. 
Course we hunt snipes after night, an’ do it with 
bags, an’ torches. Pine torches are best.” 

“ What kind of bags do you use ?” asked the 
astounded dude, 

“ Any kind o’ bags ’ll do, so they got a good 
wide open mouth. We’ve got one to the barn ’s 
the very thing. Every time Sis’ beau frum 
Louisville comes here a sparkin’ he goes out ’an 
bags a dozen or two snipes for pa. Pa’s remark- 
able fond o’ snipes.” 

The Lexington dude bit his lip in vexation. 
He had realized that the fellow from Louisville 
had been leading them all in the race for the 
hand of the fair Clara, and had long wondered 
at it. Unlike most dudes Mr. Billy Smalltrash 
had the ability to reason. True it was a very 


100 ASA TAKm BILLY 8MALLTRASH SNIPING. 

weak faculty and was exercised in a very weak 
manner, but then it was sufficiently developed 
to be called a faculty. His conclusions were in 
many instances erroneous, but he had a way of 
arriving at them. He concluded that it must 
be the snipes which Mr. Paul Webster had 
bagged for the old people that had all along 
given him the inside track. 

Asa helped the matter along by declaring that 
Sis, too, was very fond of snipes, an’ she had 
called Mr. Webster her best beau because he had 
succeeded in bringing in so many. 

“ Cawnt you learn me to catch snipes,” asked 
Billy Smalltrash. 

Oh, yes; me ’n Tom Thrasher kin do it.” ' 
It’s such a pity we’re going to have a stawmy 
night — ” sighed Mr. Smalltrash, casting an 
anxious glance at the threatening clouds above 
him. 

“ Why ?” asked Asa in astonishment. 

“ Because we could have gone out this very 
night and got a bag full of snipes.” 

‘'Oh, shucks, ye don’t know nuthin’ ’bout 
snipin,” said Asa. “ Why ye can’t git ’em to go 
in the bags only of a stormy night. All ye’d 
hev to do to-night would be to take yer place 
where we’d put ye, en’ hold the bag open. The 
torches kinder blind ’em, an’ we kin drive ’em 
anywhere we want to, don’t ye see ?” 

Of course the dude could see, and the end of 


ASA TAKES BILLY SMALLTRASE SNIPING. 101 

of it was he consented to steal out with Asa and 
Tom that very night, and go sniping. 

“ Now, don’t ye say a word ’bout it to pa,”^ 
said Asa earnestly. '' Cos ye see pa’s agitten old 
and cranky, an’ he’s got it in his head that it’ll 
make a boy sick to git out in the rain, — pshaw ; 
it jist makes him grow.” 

But, aw, won’t I get wet.” 

“ Naw — take an umbrella.” 

A man who wouldn’t go through fire and flood 
for the beautiful Clara Mullen was not worthy 
of winning her, and the result was that Mr. 
Smalltrash resolved to brave the storm and run 
the risk of spoiling his fine clothes in order to 
get the snipes for the old people. 

No sooner had Asa Mullen prefected his 
arrangements with Billy Smalltrash, than he set 
out to confer with his chum Tom Thrasher, and 
lay down to him the part he was to play. 

The boys held a meeting in the woodshed, 
and if they had been laying a plan to quietly 
seize the government and hurl the ruling 
powers out of existence, they could not have 
been more particular about it. Asa never did 
anything half-way, and Tommy was thoroughly 
drilled ; then Asa went home. 

As had been predicted that day, the night set 
in stormy. A cold, disagreeable, fine rain was 
falling, the wind soughed through the tree tops, 
and howled dismally down the hollows. 


102 ASA TAKES BILLY SMALLTBASH SNIPim. 

Asa pretended to go to bed. He was to 
sleep in the same room with Mr. Smalltrash that 
night, and he had not been in the room getting 
the bag ready long, before the door opened and 
the Lexington dude entered. 

Hadn’t we better give it up, aw ?” he asked. 

"‘Give up nuthinV’ growled Asa. “ Ef ye 
ain’t got more sand ’n that in ye, ye’d better 
leave here ; 3^e’ll not stand any show at all.” 

The unfortunate Billy Smalltrash was forced 
to engage in an undertaking at which his sensi- 
tive nature revolted. It was not raining much, 
Asa assured him. A low whistle at the window 
warned him that Tom Trasher was waiting and 
ready. 

They escaped through the back door. Oh, 
how cold, how dark and dreary the night was. 
Billy Smalltrash thought he had never seen a 
more disagreeable night than this. He was soon 
very damp, very cold, and wanted to go back ; 
but for five miles they wandered, and then halted 
on the verge of a great precipice. 

“ Here, hold the bag,” said Asa, putting a bag 
in his hand. The rain began beating faster, and 
it grew colder. Mr. Smalltrash trembled and 
wished himself in bed. “We’ll go now and 
drive in the snipes.” 

“ Let me go,” said Billy Smalltrash. 

“No, stay right here. Ye’d fall an’ break yer 
neck, don’t move no way at all.” 


ASA TAKES BILLY SMALLTBASE smBINE 103 




104 


MB. DALLYRIPPLE ENRAGED. 


The cruel boys then stole away, leaving the 
Lexington dude alone in the rain and darkness, 
holding the bag. 


CHAPTER XL 

MR. DALLYRIPPLE ENRAGED. 

The night was excessively dark. Billy Small- 
trash was one of those peculiarly constituted 
individuals who are afraid in the dark. He had 
always been afraid when a child, and now that 
he was a man, he was still afraid. 

Alone in a vast forest, unable to see a pace 
before him, he stood restless, uneasy in the rain 
which pelted down upon him. Asa had laid the 
umbrella aside, so the dude ould hold the bag 
better, assuring him that in such favorable weather 
for sniping they would soon have it full of snipes, 
but that an umbrella would be in the way. 

Tom Thrasher, who was exceedingly well 
drilled, took the umbrella under his arm as they 
marched away. 

The lonely dude stood under the dripping 
trees, and watched the light of the torch which 
the boys carried, as they wandered about among 
the breaks and hills occasionally whistling for 
snipes. Alexander Selkirk never watched the 
departure of the vessel which left him alone on 
the Island of Juan Feruandez with more helpless 


105 


MR. DALLYRIPPLB ENRAGED. 

despair, than did poor Billy Smalltrash watch 
that pine torch. 

But they will return driving the snipes soon,” 
he reasoned. '' This is the way they catch snipes 
beyond a doubt. Oh, how I wish they’d bring in 
a great bag full, aw ! wouldn’t I get away with 
the Louisville fellah ?” 

The dude actually became almost happy not- 
withstanding his distressing situation. A dude 
can love— there’s no question about it' for he 
has been tested too often. Poor dude with his 
weak head and strong imagination, his refined 
taste for tight trowsers and silk hats, and hair 
parted in the middle. There is no question but 
that he can love. But his love brings him more 
misery than it does other people. He finds an 
additional burden on his hands, and a dude can 
not bear many burdens. 

Poor Billy Smalltrash thought he was really 
making a martyr of himself for Miss Clara Mul- 
len. He cared not that his head and face were 
becoming soaked with cold rain, but it made his 
heart ache to realize that his fine silk hat, which 
he prided so highly, was becoming ruined. He 
cared not so much that his body was wet and he 
shivered with cold, as his new clothes were 
becoming soiled by the rain. 

'' Why don’t the boys come back ?” he sighed. 

He listened, hoping to catch some faint footfall 
that might indicate their return. F or some reason 


106 


MR. DALLTRIPPLE ENRAGED: 


he never for a moment entertained a thought 
that he had been made the subject of a practical 
joke. 

But the boys came not back. The torch dis- 
appeared and then all was blackness. It seemed 
to poor Billy Smalltrash that the night was so 
dark that one might take a piece of chalk and 
write their name on the atmosphere. The rain 
fell in a sort of a drizzle which increased slowly, 
but never amounted to a torrent or flood. It is 
those slow rains that seem to wet a fellow 
through to his very bones. It seemed to our 
unfortunate dude that even the marrow in his 
bones were frozen. 

Why^y-y-y d-d-d-on’t the b-b-boys come on 
w-w-w-with the snipes,” he stammered. His 
teeth chattering with the chill the rain had pro- 
duced. I-I-I wonder id-i-if they are g-g-g-going 
to 1-1-leave me here a-a-all night with the b-b-b- 
bag to hold.” 

'‘He was very tired. He was aching with cold, 
and his sensitive nature all out of patience with 
the recollection that his new silk hat had been 
ruined by the rain. 

“ Oh-h-h-oh, I wish I w-w-w-w-was in bed.” 

He yawned, for he was so chilled that he was 
growing sleeoy. Then he bethought him that if 
he had the umbrella it would enable him to keep 
off the rain, and he began to think of looking for 
it ; but to his horror he remembered that right 


107 


MB. DALLTBIPPLE ENBAaED. 

before him, not three feet away was a vast chasm. 
To move a step farther would be to meet a terri- 
ble death. 

What should he do ? He got confused, and in 
turning about really forgot which direction the 
chasm was. 

'' Oh, Lawd,” sighed the Lexington dude, 
“ what am I to do if the boys don’t come back ? 
I know I shall be killed. The scamps took away 
all the torch there was, and I am alone in the dark.” 

How much he would have given (providing he 
had had it to give) for a flash of lightning at that 
moment, is perhaps beyond the powers of an ordi- 
nary mathematician to calculate. But this time 
no friendly blaze came to either reveal the horrors 
of his situation, nor show him the means of extri- 
cating himself from his dilemma. 

Had he been totally blind he could not have 
been more helpless than he was at that moment. 

The boys had been gone fully an hour, and to 
the agonized Lexington dude it seemed ten 
hours. He was certain that enough cold water 
had run down his back to overflow the Ohio. 
The dude at last began, figuratively speaking, to 
‘'smell a mice.” That he had been the victim 
of a trick seemed possible. 

It might be that those boys who had guided 
him to this place had fallen down some precipice 
and broken their precious necks ; but it was far 
more probable that they were at that very 


108 MR, DALL7BIPPLE ENRAGED. 

moment at their homes, and in their beds asleep. 
Now the dude began to curse himself for a fool, 
a very uncommon thing for a dude to do. There 
are few in dudedom who can ever arrive at that 
supreme point. 

Well, another hour was passed by the dude, 
alternately standing and squatting. He had 
made a cloak of the bag, and was himself the 
only game who had been bagged. The wind 
rose and howled dismally down the great deep 
ravines or whistled among the tree tops. The 
dude seemed freezing. The dude’s blood is 
never very thick, and his slender legs seemed to 
be two wooden sticks. 

Oh, Lawd, what am I to do ?” he sighed. 

We suppose that question has been asked in 
this language before. Nearly every one when 
they have exhausted their own brains and find 
nobody else at hand who can answer their ques- 
tion call on the Lord. It makes no difference 
whether they pretend to believe in a Supreme 
Being or not, they call on Him when they find 
all earthly aid failing. 

Billy Smalltrash was a skeptic, because it 
sounded big to him to be above such silly non- 
sense as believing in the Bible, or the doctrine 
of Churches. He liked to be reckoned as a man 
of intelligence, and one who delved into science 
for himself, rather than a believer in the old 
fogy notions of the preachers. 


i6{) 


Mtt. DALL TRIPPLE EltUA G ED. ' 

^ Our poor silly dude, like two-thirds if not 
nine-tenths of the skeptics in the world, did not 
know the first principles of science. When he 
realized the horrors of a terrible death about to 
befall him, he threw himself on his knees, and if 
his skeptical friends had heard his prayers they 
would have realized that after -all skepticism 
would not do to pin ones faith on when facinij 
death. 

It occurred to him at last that he might crawl 
away from there, so he began slowly and care- 
fully feeling his way along. He soon found that 
he was moving in some direction, but to save his 
life he could not tell exactly where. He was 
slowly — yes, rather slowly— moving along ; for a 
man crawling on his hands and knees does not 
go with the rapidity of a lightning express, 
especially if he has a vague suspicion that there 
is a yawing chasm before him into which he is 
liable to plunge. 

At last Mr. Smalltrash s hand came in contact 
with a stick lying across his pathway. He 
seized it with joy and rose to his feet. At first 
he hoped it was the umbrella, but in a moment 
was disappointed. But then an umbrella would 
do him no good now. Already his silk hat was 
soaked until it had flattened quite down on his 
head, and his knees and trowsers were soiled 
with the rain and mud. 

The stick could be used to feel his way along. 


110 MR. DALLTRIPPLB ENRAGED. 

The lively imagination of Billy Smalltrash 
constantly conjured up all sorts of dire calami- 
ties. Now he was sure that he was on the verge 
of some mighty precipice, the next moment he 
seemed running against a wall of solid stone. 
It seemed as if goblins and demons thronged the 
air all about »him, and fought and snarled and 
struggled to see who could torment him most. 

Each wild shriek of the wind was to his vivid 
imagination but the wail of a ghost. He was 
sure his hair would turn white on account of the 
horrors to which he was that night exposed. 

But he kept on, and on, and on for hours. He 
ran against trees and fell over logs among rocks, 
and scrambled through thickets and brambles, 
until his clothes were torn and his skin lascer- 
ated. Still he struggled with might and main to 
get through the woods. 

Going whither, he knew not. He was filled 
with dread apprehension at every step, and 
expected at any moment to be hurried to an 
awful death. The poor unfortunate dude 'at 
times became desperate, and with a cry for help, 
which only the moaning winds answered, in 
his frenzy he would dash forward until he ran 
head first against a tree, and was brought up 
with such force as to send him flat on his back. 

After wandering a long time through this 
wilderness and darkness, and concluding that he 


MR. DALLTRIPPLE ENRAGED. Ill 

would have some terrible adventures to relate 
should he ever escape alive, he came to a road. 

The shipwrecked mariner on a desert island 
never hailed the star-spangled banner at the 
masthead of a ship with more joy than he did 
this muddy, sloppy road. 

He felt his way along it, and fell down half-a- 
dozen times, until he — had it been light enough 
to have seen — would have been envied by the 
hogs. He traveled — it seemed tohi m — twenty 
miles along this road, though we are certain it 
was not near so far, when he came to a fence. 

Here he halted and had a second season of 
rejoicing. It seemed as if he would hardly get 
over this spell. His life would be spared, and he 
danced a fisher’s horn-pipe ; what cared he now if 
clothes, of which he was so proud, were spattered 
with mud, his life was saved. 

He felt his way along the fence, which a little 
further on was changed from rails to stone. But 
that stone fence would lead him somewhere, and 
there he wanted to go. The home of a poor 
negro would now be a blessing to the unfortu- 
nate dude. 

He wandered carefully along the stone fence in 
all its devious meanderings, and across ditches 
and hollows, sometimes up and sometimes down, 
exhibiting more determination than any one would 
suppose an individual with such slender legs could 
possess, and finally triumphing. 


11 ^ MR. DALLTRIPPLE EKRAGEj). 

The last discovery was almost too much for 
the happy dude. He had come to a barn. Not 
a very comfortable barn, but a common farm- 
house barn. 

The out doors were locked, but by climbing a 
fence he went around on the opposite side of the 
barn, and there, by feeling along, came to an open 
door, which he entered. 

There all was dark, but a chorus of squeals 
convinced him that he had entered the domicile 
of a lot of mules. Then the squealing and kick- 
ing business began. All about him, right and 
left, before and behind, and everywhere, came the 
whack of heels, and squeal of vicious mules. 

Poor Billy Smalltrash was in great peril, and 
in diis dire calamity sprang, wholly by accident, 
against a ladder. It led upward, and, as his 
thoughts- at that moment were upward, he began 
to climb. He climbed that ladder with a great 
deal more alacrity than the author of this narra- 
tive has been able to climb the ladder of fame. 
He reached the top — which the author has not 
yet done — and there found a large hay-mow, 
generously filled with dry, warm hay. The mules 
were still squealing and kicking below, and the 
dude shivering with cold sunk down in the hay, 
and as time wore on grew warmer and fell asleep. 

He had no idea how long he had been asleep, 
but it was some hours, when he felt some one 


Mr. DALLtRlPPLE ENRAGED. 113 

shaking him by the shoulder, and a harsh, rough 
voice in his ear cried out : 

See, ’ere, what you doin’ here ?” 

Hump, aw !” ejaculated the dude, starting up 
and gazing about him in stupified amazement. 

“ What yer doin’ here. Am I goin’ to turn 
my barn inter a sleepin’ place for tramps ?” 

Hump;” and the dude yawned and rubbed 
his eyes. He could see the warm sunlight stream- 
ing in through the cracks in the barn, and the 
darkness was dispelled. H e looked at the enraged 
farmer who stood over him with a hayfork in one 
hand, which he seemed half inclined to drive 
through him. The dude, had risen to a sitting 
position, and with his hands clasped about his 
knees sat and yawned. I beg pawdon, sir, but 
cawn you tell me where I am he asked. 

'‘Yes; in my barn ; who are you, any way?” 

“ I, sir, am a gentleman from Lexington.” 

" Then what are you doing in my barn ?” 

" Who are you, sir ?” asked the dude. 

"I’m Farmer Dallyripple, and I’ve had jest 
’bout as many tramps ’bout me ’s I’m goin’ to 
hev. I jest got a notion to drive it right through 
ye. See how muddy ye’ve got the hay, ye good 
fur nuthin’ dog.” 

It grieved Mr. Billy Smalltrash to have such 
epithets hurled at him, but Mr. Dallyripple was 
enraged beyond measure. He grew white in the 
face and his eyes were murderous. The result 


114 HOW 8AMMV FLAXSEED KILLED THE BEAR. 

was Billy fell on his knees and implored the far- 
mer’s mercy. 

Whar d ye come from ? What ye doin’ here, 
ye good fur nuthin’ tramp ?” 

“ I came from Lexington, and I’m a guest of 
Mr. Abram Mullen,” whimpered the dude. 

I don’t believe it, but I’ll find out 
whether you’re a lyin’ or not. It’s not a half-a- 
mile to Mullens,’n I’ll drag ye there by the back 
of the neck.” 

Poor unfortunate Mr. Smalltrash was forced 
to the house of his adored one, where he was 
hardly recognized by the good people. 

When Sis learned how bad he had been 
treated, she pitied him and promised him he 
might come back again some time, and her pa 
whipped Asa within an inch of his life for the 
trick he had played. 


CHAPTER XII. 

HOW SAMMY FLAXSEED KILLED THE BEAR. 

Billy Smalltrash went to his Lexington 
home considerably mollified. True his apparel 
was somewhat dilapidated, and his new plug 
hat was considerably the worse for wear. He 
felt that he had been greatly humiliated ; but 
then he had the sweet satisfaction in knowing 


now SAMMY YLAX8EBD KILLED THE BEAU. 115 



“ It’s not a half mile to Mullens’, and I’ll drag ye there by the back 
r of the neck .” — Page 114, 


lie BOW SAMMT FLAiAEEi) 

that Asa had been “ soundly larruped,” and his 
sister had sweetly smiled upon him. It was 
some consolation to him that he would have the 
privilege of once more coming back as the 
invited guest of the belle of the Blue Grass 
Valley. 

He did not know that Sammy Flaxseed was 
to be a visitor at the Mullen homestead, nor 
that he was running neck and neck with him in 
the race for the hand of the fair Clara. 

Sammy and Billy were great cronies — or pre- 
tended to, be — ^just as dudes usually do when 
they want to cut each other out. They had 
always been rivals and the prospects were good 
for their always being rivals, for one never 
started at anything that the other did not try to 
head him off. When Billy met the belle of the 
Blu^ Grass Valley — as the neighborhood was 
generally known — and fell in love with her at a 
country picnic, he tried hard to keep his rival 
from knowing it. But it was no use. Sammy 
seemed to instinctively know that Billy had a 
sweetheart somewhere, and fell in love with 
her before he knew her name or what she was 
like. 

But we need not retrogade in our story. If 
the reader’s imagination is at all vivid he can fill 
in all the blank space ; if not, guess at it. 

The Saturday following brought Sammy Flax- 
seed, another one of Sis’ store beaux, as Asa 


KILLED THE BEAB. 


117 


termed them. In fact a Saturday never passed 
without Sis having a beau. She was such a con- 
summate little flirt, that she could, smile on all. 
There now, I don’t know but I have done Sis an 
unkindness in calling her a flirt. She could 
hardly be called a flirt, for she had a tender, 
gentle heart, and would not for the world have 
done anyone a wrong. She was so full of mis- 
chief, so fond of fun that she could not help 
enjoying herself with these Lexington dudes. 

Sammy Flaxseed arrived at the Mullen home- 
stead early in the day. He was determined this 
time that no horse-race or scheme of any kind 
should prevent his having an opportunity of see- 
ing his adored Miss Clara. 

Asa had really been in no scrape since he took 
Billy Smalltrash sniping, and he was spoiling for 
some fun, while his back was itching for another 
whaling. 

“ Now, Sammy, yer as good as mine,” he said 
to himself as he wandered about the house, his 
active mind busy with various plans and schemes 
for having some sport. 

“ Lem me see,” he said to himself. Will I 
take my pardner inter this or had I better work 
it myself. No — guess Ld better go’t alone. 
Tom’s very good pardner in most things, but 
we’ve got to play it purty fine on Sammy, or he’ll 
tumble to it, ’n then the things a goner.” 

Asa was sitting on a large flat stone, which was 


118 


ROW SAMMY FLAXSEED 


used as a stile block, unconsciously nursing his 
foot. 

'' Asa, yer pa said dat you mus’ come an’ help 
pick up dem apples,” said Sambo, interfering 
with the lad’s ruminations. 

“ Aw ! pick up nuthinV’ said Asa who was not 
well pleased with the interruption. 

'' Well, yer pa said so,” reiterated the darkey. 

''Tell pa I’ve got a sprained ankle, an’ I can’t 
work.” 

" You’d better go’n tell ’im yerse’f. Guess I’s 
got somfin’ else to do sides runnin’ roun’ arter 
you,” growled Sambo. 

" Wall, guess I’m not goin’ to be driv’ roun’ 
by a nigger,” retorted our hero in no very 
enviable manner. " I reckin’ you think things 
hev took a change, do ye ? I’m the nigger this 
time ’nstead o’ you. Yer barkin’ up the wrong 
tree ; so jest scoot, Sambo.” 

Had Asa had leisure he would not have cared 
to assist in the work, for as we have had occasion 
to observe he was not what might be called a 
lazy boy. He did not like to have his plans 
interfered with, however, for there would be 
little time enough to accomplish all he designed. 

Sammy Flaxseed was Sis’ meanest beau, and 
he wanted to do him up brown. Asa went hob- 
bling to the house, and informed his pa that he 
was too lame to work that evening, and that he 


KILLED THE BEAR. 


119 


really believed his young constitution was broken 
down, and he was destined to an early grave. 

Mr. Mullen was a weak man, and he wilted. 

My dear little boy do you feel so bad ?” he 
asked, putting his band on Asa’s head to see if 
he had a fever. 

Yes, pa, I do,” and if one had heard the 
impudent* young scamp, they would have 
thought that he was in the last stage of consump- 
tion. 

Your head is hot.” 

I think, pa, that your little boy should be 
out in the air more, but my ankle is sprained, 
and I can’t work to-day. Monday I will work 
for you until I have worn my finger-nails off, 
sick or well.” 

Mr. Mullen was not the man to impose on a 
sick child, and he of course excused Asa from 
labor until Monday. 

Well, now I’ve got pa solid,” said Asa as he 
went out into the yard to ruminate, having 
recovered to a remarkable extent from his 
lameness. Next thing to do’s to git Sis’ beau 
all right.” 

Fortune favored him. Mr. Flaxseed as we 
have seen had a passion for horse-flesh but little 
less than his love for the belle of the Blue Grass 
Valley. He wandered to the pastures where 
Mullen’s blooded horses roamed at will, like 


120 


HOW SAMM7 FLAXSEED 


nature’s noblemen, and gazed on them in wonder 
and admiration. 

Asa saw the dude, as he delighted to call all of 
Sis’ store beaux, and made his way to him with 
all the speed his discretion would allow. / 

“ I say, mister, d’ye ever hunt any ?” he asked 
in a very earnest manner. 

Sammy Flaxseed, who had always really prided 
his skill and ability as a hunter, answered : 

“Yes, of course I have, boy ; why I am one 
of the greatest huntah’s since th^ days of Nim- 
rod — ah !” 

“ Did ye ever kill a bar.” 

“ Kill a b’ar ; ah — well, no, ah ! I never 
exactly killed a b’ar, but I’ve shot almost every 
other kind of game, — indeed I have, ah !” 

“ Sis is rale fond o’ bar meat,” said Asa seri- 
ously. “So’s pa ’n ma, an’ thar’s a great big bar 
in the neighborhood what’s been a eatin’ of all 
the chickens ’n turkeys, so ’t I heerd ma say that 
she’d make Sis marry the first feller what killed 
that bar, an ’f no ’n could be found with spunk 
’nough to tackle it, she’d hev to live an old maid. 
I d’n know what makes ma so determined ’bout 
that bar, but she says she’s goin’ t’ git rid o’ it 
some way.” 

Mr. Sammy Flaxseed found his heart rising 
with fear and happiness. Sammy was a coward 
and had a mortal dread of bears and all sorts of 
dangerous wild beasts. He could take a shot- 


KILLED THE BEAR. 


121 


gun and shoot the poor little quails or innocent 
birds for weeks at a time, but when it came to 
firing at a dangerous wild beast, which, unless he 
gave it a mortal wound at, first shot, would turn 
on him and rend him to pieces, was quite another 
thing. 

The recollection, however, that he would #nake 
himself a hero by destroying this ravenous wild 
beast, and almost insure the hand of the belle of 
Blue Grass Valley, determined him to make the 
effort. 

Boy,” he said, laying his hand on Asa’s 
shoulder, do you know where that ba’ can be 
found ?” 

Yes; ye bet I do,” said Asa solemnly. 

** Can you take me to it ?” 

Oh, yes ; but ye wouldn’t go would you ?” 

^‘Wouldn’t I. Oh, just give me a true uneer- 
ing rifle, and put me on its trail, and they’ll either 
haul me home in a wagon or the ba’.” 

‘‘Well, pa’s got a splendid gun, sure fire, never 
misses and sends lead right through. Now I’ll git 
it fur ye. Don’t say nuthin’ ’bout it, cos ef pa 
thought ye war goin’ out on sich a dangerous 
trip he’d not let ye hev it. I’ll go’n git it right 
now, meet me down by the big tree.” 

Mr. Flaxseed had been waiting but a short 
time when Asa, who seemed wholly recovered 
from his lameness, appeared with rifle, bullet 
pouch, belt and long hunting-knife. 


122 


HOW SAMMY FLAXSEED 


'' Ye’ll need the knife ’f ye git to close quarters 
with the bar ; cos ye see he fights like sixty, ’n 
the way he digs into ye’s some. Ye’ve got to 
dig back lively, or the bar’ll git away with ye.” 

Mr. Flaxseed was already trembling with dread 
apprehension, but he had screwed his courage up 
to the sticking point, and resolved to do so or 
die. He shouldered the gun, buckled the belt 
about his waist, and told Asa to lead the way ; 
very much" as a man might start out to lead a for- 
lorn hope. 

The boy took the lead along a dark wooded 
path, which wound about among hills, and breaks, 
and rocks, and knolls. There were waterfalls, 
brooks and mossy banks, and delightful glens 
which looked as if they might be the homes of 
fairies. The active mind of Sammy Flaxseed 
half expected to see elfin spirites dancing on the 
green. The day was exceedingly warm, and the 
deep recesses of that dark old wood were cool 
and refreshing. 

They wandered over a rocky part of country, 
passed through a thicket of brambles and crossed 
a fence. Here was another thorn patch through 
which they crawled, tearing their clothes and 
scratching the skin of the dandy from Lexington. 
When they had got through the thicket they were 
in a thick wood ; so thick they scarcely could see 
any distance. Here Asa halted, refusing to 
advance another step. 


KILLED THE BEAR. 


123 


Go on an’ ye’ll find the bar,” he said. Ye’ve 
got the gun, ’n ye kin kill it at fust sight if ye 
hold ’er right. I shant go another step. Draw 
yer knife soon ’s ye shoot ’im, an run up and pitch 
in, fur its too late then to climb a tree.” 

With this consolation and encouragement, the 
Lexington dandy crept up the slight ascent, 
trembling in every limb. His eyes were widely 
distended, his heart was thumping like a base 
drum, and he was quaking with dread. He 
started at every sound, and glared at every object. 

Soon, through the leaves, his eyes caught sight 
of a large dark brown object. It was old bruin. 
Oh, how his knees knocked together and he 
trembled with fear. He shook from head to foot. 
Sammy realized that he was facing death, but it 
was now too late to retreat. He fell down upon 
his knees and tried to pray, but Now I lay me 
down to sleep ” was all the prayer he could call 
to mind at that moment. With maddened des- 
peration he seized the gun, leveled it at the 
monster, and fired. 

There was a crash following the report, and the 
animal lay struggling and kicking in the agonies 
of death. Now was the time ; and dropping his 
gun he snatched his knife and, closing his eyes, ran 
forward and cut the dying monster’s throat. Fall- 
ing upon his knees he raised his hands and eyes 
upward in thanks for his deliverance. Sounds of 
footsteps recalled him to his senses, and looking 


124 


TEE RIVALS. 


up he saw a tall, lank Kentuckian, with a dark 
look on his brow, approaching. In a voice of 
thunder he yelled : 

“ See here, stranger, I want you to pay me fur 
that ’ar calf !” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE RIVALS. 

Sammy Flaxseed rose in horror and astonish- 
ment from his knees. He gazed down at the poor 
sickly calf which lay torn with the shot and 
mangled with his knife before him, and wondered 
how it had been so suddenly transformed from a 
bear to a calf. But the transformation was com- 
plete. 

He began to stammer out an apology. 

“ You need n’t apologize; pay me fur that ar 
calf, or I’ll choke the life right out o’ ye.” 

B-b-b-but, sir — it was — a ba’.” 

“ Bar ; can’t ye tell a bar frum a calf ?” cried 
the excitable Mr. Dallyripple.” I’ll tell ye ye’ve 
jist got ter pay me fur that’r calf, right now.” 

I-I had no idea it was yo’ calf.” 

Thunder, ye did’nt. Whose calf ’d ye think 
it was ?” 

I thought it was a ba’.” 

Oh, bar ; what lunatic asylum ’d you git out 
of that ye can’t tell a calf frum a bar? Come 


fSE RIVALS. 


123 


shell er right out, ’n less hev no more words 
bout it, or I’ll wear the earth out with ye,” roared 
Mr. Dallyripple. 

From a distant crab thicket, convulsed with 
laughter, and hardly able to restrain his screams, 
Aas Mullen watched Sis’ beau as he put his hand 
in his pocket and drew out his slender purse. 

‘‘How much is the calf worth ?” he asked in a 
voice almost choking. 

“ Ten dolla’s.” 

The Lexington dude started back in astonish- 
ment, as well he might, for that was certainly 
twice as much as the calf was worth. He began 
to remonstrate, for like most dudes our Lexington 
.friend had not a great amount of money to spare. 

“ Pay it,” yelled the excited Kentuckian of the 
Blue Grass Valley, waving his fists in the air, and 
at times approaching exceedingly near the nose 
of the dandy. “ Pay it ye scoundrel, or I’ll take 
it out ’n yer hide.” 

“ Oh-h-h-h here it is,” stammered the unfortu- 
nate dude, counting out the money. 

“Now take the calf.” 

“ I don’t want it.” 

“Ye shall. Ye bought it, an’ I aint goin’ to hev 
the thing laying roun’ here in the way.” 

In vain the Lexington gent persisted that he 
did not want the calf, he was forced to throw it 
on his shoulder and carry it out of the pasture 
anyway. 


m 


TRE MIVALS. 


Asa hastened home to tell his sister, who was 
his confident in all things. 

“ Oh, Asa,” she cried, ''why did you do such a 
thing ?” 

" Oh, Sis, ye’d a dide ’f ye’d a seen him when 
he shouldered that poor scrawny calf ’t he’d 
thought a bar,” and Asa rolled over on the floor 
and kicked his heels in the air. 

It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Flaxseed 
returned from his hunt. His clothes were torn 
and soiled, and he was dirty and had a woebegone 
look on his face, which moved the sympathetic 
heart of Sis to pity. She always had words of 
condolence for those who suffered, and she 
expressed her sympathy so plainly that Sammy. 
Flaxseed felt a little repayed for all he had been 
made to suffer. 

" Wha’ in the world have you been ?” asked 
Mr. Mullen when he saw his daughter’s beau 
come in with a gun on his sholder. 

" I have been ba’ hunting,” the dude answered 
in a melancholy sort of a way. 

" A bar huntin’, why land sakes alive man, thar 
aint a bar ’n a hundred miles o’ here.” 

"Well, your boy said there was — ” 

" Yes, I knowed it,” interrupted the irate father. 
" That’s allers the way. That boy ’ll be hung 
yet. It’s no use to larrup him, fur I’ve worn out 
I don’t know how many straps on his back, but 
all seems to do no good,” 


THE RIVALS. 


127 


He went in search of Asa again, but that 
individual was conspicuous for his absence at that 
moment, and uncle Abram had cooled down 
toward his dear little boy before he saw him 
again. 

Asa then began to make his peace with Mr. 
Flaxseed. Perhaps Sammy thought that a nice 
present brought from Lexington would secure him 
from the further pranks of this desperate youth. 
He was willing to make friends with Asa, and 
Asa was so fair in his promises to mend his ways 
toward Flaxseed, and so bitterly opposed to Billy 
Smalltrash, that he soon won Sammy’s confidence. 

‘‘ That feller frum Lexington who was here 
last got lost in the woods tryin’ to catch snipes,” 
said Asa, and he related the whole incident for 
the edification of Mr. Flaxseed. 

Aw — does he come heah often ?” Sammy 
asked with some anxiety. 

''Yes, he does ; and I’ll tell ye he’s a shyin’ 
round Sis a right smart, but I’ll bet ye kin cut 
him out.” 

" How ?” 

"Jest pitch in. That’s the way I’d do,’n if 
that other feller come foolin’ roun’ too much, 
slap’m over.” 

" But, now, Asa, my deah boy, aw ! you know 
that is not genteel,” said the dude. 

" Genteel, nuthin’; what do you keer whether 
things genteel ’r not down here ’n Blue Grass 


128 


TBE BIVAL8. 


Valley. I tell ye that’s the way t’ win Sis. I 
know her. She’s a fractious gall, ’n all yer fine 
flimmadidle doin’s don’t amount to half as much 
as one good square knock ’em down with the 
hst.” 

This made poor Sammy Flaxseed wish that he 
was a Heenan, Tom Allen or Sullivan; but, 
unfortunately, he was not a pugilist. He grew a 
little combatative, however, and in a voice which 
indicated a dawning determination, he asked : 

When will that villain from Lexington dare 
to presume to come heah again ?” 

Asa’s face brightened, for he at once saw that 
his plan was working. The fish was beginning 
to bite. 

“ Why, he’s cornin’ back next Saturday,” said 
Asa solemnly, ‘^an’ if“I was you I’d be on hand 
like a thousand o’ brick. I tell ye if ye git to 
be my brother-in-law, ye’ve jest got ter hustle, 
that’s all thar is of it.” 

The upshot of this conversation was that Mr. 
Flaxseed decided to hustle, and if he could pos- 
sibly induce Miss Clara to allow him the privi- 
lege, he would return next Saturday. 

'' Don’t say a word to her ’bout it; greeney,” 
interrupted x^sa as soon as he discovered what 
the intent of Mr. Flaxseed was. 

-Why?” 

- Cos she’ll shet down on it. She’s got one 
beau for next Saturday, and though Sis is a 


TBB RIVALS. 


129 


right handy gall 'n talkin’ to fellers, one beau at 
a time is all she kin attend to. Come any way, 
come by mistake or accident, an’ then pologize 
fur doin’ ’t, but go in and make the most ye kin 
out’n it.” 

Mr. Flaxseed decided to follow his advice, and 
come life or death, he would pulverize, annihi- 
late, and humiliate Billy Smalltrash on the fol- 
lowing Saturday. 

Some time during the week Asa found his 
sister in a good humor, — really Sis was always 
in a good humor, but at this time she was in a 
suitable frame of mind to enjoy any plan that 
promised fun. They were alone, and he said : 

Sis, d’ye keer any thing fur them Lexington 
dudes.” 

'‘No,” she answered, laughing and blushing. 

" Why don’t ye git red o’ ’em ?” 

" Get rid of them, Asa ?” said Sis, laughing 
and blushing. " That is much easier said than 
done. I wish I was rid of them and would never 
see them again ; but then one can’t help pitying 
the poor fellows, they are rather good-hearted, 
shallow-brained fellows, though they mean no 
harm by it” 

"Well, Sis, ’f ye’ll jine in ’n help me I’ll clear 
out these rascals fur ye in no time.” 

" But you must not play any tricks on them.” 

" Oh, tricks, nuthin’. That’s jest like you 
allers are. Yer allers ’fraid o’ some body playin’ 


180 


Tm mvALs. 


tricks on some ^un. Guess I aint goin* to kill 
anybody, am I T 

No ; but then it is too bad the way you do 
sometimes.” 

‘‘ I aint killed anybody.” 

No ; but you have humiliated people so 
many times that it is just terrible the way you 
act.” 

Pshaw — everybody lives over it, an’ then 
don’t people laugh ’bout it, least all but me — and 
when pa jest wallops me till I kin see stars it’s 
no fun.” 

“ Why do you do things for which pa will have 
to whip you.” 

Pa don’t hev to whale me. He could live 
an’ keep in jest as good health lettin’ me alone as 
to be allers a bouncin’ on a feller, floggin’ the 
life amost out o’ him.” 

‘‘ But you are so bad, Asa ; why can’t you be 
good?” 

I’m good. 

** For what ?” 

‘‘To keep people frum havin’ the blues, an’ 
to interest yer beaux all the time. They never 
git lonesome when I’m- about.” 

“ I don’t think they rejoice very much at your 
presence — ” Sis began. 

“ Aw, shucks. Sis, that’s not business. Come 
let’s talk on business an’ quit sich nonsense.” 

“ What’ do you want to talk about ?” 


TBB RIVALS, 


181 


’Bout them beaux.” 

What of them ?” 

Asa crossed his legs, and assumed a very busi- 
ness like manner, as he answered : 

“ Ef I didn’t very much misunderstand ye. Sis, 
ye indirectly expressed a wish to be rid of ’em.” 

“ Well, I would be glad to be rid of them, that 
is a fact,” assented Sis. 

Wall now, don’t ye know ye kin jest as well 
as not ?” 

'' Tell me how.” 

Jest help me a little ye know.” 

“ Help you to some trick — never.” 

“No, I don’t want ye to help ’n some trick. 
I jist want ye to be on hand so’s to see some- 
thin’; they’ll set up a job on each other.” 

“ What do you mean, Asa ?” the beautiful girl 
asked while her form was convulsed with laugh- 
ter, for she knew that Asa had some plan on foot 
which promised an abundance of sport. 

Asa then informed her that Sammy Flaxseed 
and Billy Smalltrash would both be at the Mul- 
len homestead. She was astonished at this 
information, but interested in the plan which 
Asa began to unfold. At the conclusion of his 
explanation she was almost speechless with 
laughter. But it is not always best to laugh too 
much at an event which is still prospective. 
The plan may miscarry, and laughing in advance 


m tee miyals. 

lessens the mirth when the event actually does 
transpire. 

The Saturday following brought Sammy Flax- 
seed. He came quite early by another route 
from that which Billy Smalltrash would come. 
Billy was perfectly thunderstruck and in no very 
good humor when he discovered that his rival 
had preceded him. 

Ah ! Mr. Flaxseed, why did you come T he 
asked with lowering brow. 

“ That is a question, ah ! which it is imperti- 
nence to ask, and which I do not propose to 
answer, ah !” 

You don't, ah ?" 

No, I don't, ah." 

Then, sir, I may find a way to make you ?" 
said the infuriated Mr. Smalltrash, glaring at him 
furiously through his glasses. 

Ah, sirrah, what mean ye ?" snarled Mr. 
Flaxseed. 

'' Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen," said Miss Clara, 
coming forward to prevent any open rupture. 
“ Remember, gentleman, where you are and what 
you are about to do." 

Oh, I beg pawdon. Miss Clara," said Mr. 
Smalltrash, bowing quite low. 

'' I beg pawdon, Miss Clara," said Mr. Flax- 
seed, bowing still lower. 

It was only because I was provoked by this 
awdacious puppy," said Smalltrash. 


THE BIYAL8. 


133 



“ * Oh gentlemen, remember where you are, and what you are 
’ about to do,’ said Miss Clara.”— 132. 




134 


THE BIVAL8. 


It was because that sheep-head was in mj 
way.” 

“ Come, Miss Mullen, allow me to conduct 
you from the presence of such a bo’ as he is,” 
said Mr. Smalltrash. 

“ Beg pawdon, Miss Mullen, allow me to 
accompany you — he is not fit to associate with 
you.” 

Then the dudes glared at each other and 
growled, and Clara laughed until the tears almost 
started down her cheeks. 

What are you doing here ?” yelled Small- 
trash, menacing Flaxseed. 

What are you doing here ?” cried Flaxseed. 

‘‘None of your business.” 

“ None of your business.” 

“You rascal. I’ll make it my business.” 

“You’ve just run over me, Sam Flaxseed, as 
long as you can. I had Miss Clara’s company 
engaged, and you ar’ an intrudah.” 

“What are you going to do about it. Bill 
Smalltrash. Go back to Lexington and pay yo’ 
bowd bill befo’ you da’ come to see Miss Mullen.” 

“ Go pay yo’ wash-bill, Sam Flaxseed.” 

They were about once more to come together, 
when Miss Clara proved again to be oil upon 
troubled waters. She reminded them that they 
were in her presence, and promised to give her 
attention impartially to each of them if they 
would shake hands and promise to be friends. 


TEE DUEL, 


185 


They did so, though they glared at her like 
tigers. 

Asa says : You’d a dide if you’d a seen them 
walking one on each side of Sis, both claiming 
her attention and both talking to her all the 
while. Every few moments they glared at each 
other in rage, which was ill-suppressed. 

“ Things’r workin’ all right,” said Asa as he 
saw the rivals in company with Sis, and any- 
thing else than brotherly love between them. 
'' Now I’ll git ’em apart, an’ I’ll suggest a plan o’ 
settlin’ this.” 

Asa hurried away after eating his dinner to see 
his chum Tom Thrasher, and complete the 
arrangements for the coming sport, for Asa 
intended to have some fun with Sis’ beaux. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE DUEL. 

“ Tom,” said Asa, panting with his run. He 
found Tom at the front gate for he had seen Asa 
coming from afar off, and naturally supposing 
there was some business of importance on hand, 
he hastened to meet him. 

** What is it, Asa ?” he asked. 

M Wait — ” he panted — “ till a feller kin git his 
breath,” and Asa took a few seconds for breath- 


186 


TEE DUEL. 


ing, and then said: “We’ve jest got the finest 
chance fur a big lot o’ fun o’ anyone ye ever seed 
'n yer life.” 

What is it r 

** Two dewds t* our house, — both Sis’s beaux. . 
Mad as wet hens ’t each other — an’ they kin jest 
make lots o’ fun fur us.” 

-How?” 

- Got them ole pistols o’ yer pa’s ?” 

-Yes.” 

-Bothshute?” 

-Yer bet.” ' 

- Kin yer git powder ’n caps ?” 

- Course I kin, an’ anything else, ef ye want 
ter go a huntin’ with them pistols.” 

- Oh, go huntin’ nuthin’,” said Asa. - Taint 
no time ter go huntin’ now. D’ye git them 
pistols so the’ll both shute paper wads, ’n we’ll 
hev fun in the mornin’.” 

- Why, that’s Sunday ; can’t shute on Sunday.” 

Asa revealed his plan more fully and Tom 

Thrasher acquiesced in it. Then they sat down 
and talked it all over, and Asa rose and went 
home to complete things there. 

Sis had got her lovers somewhat mollified, and 
left the dudes sitting in the best-room while she 
excused herself to attend to some domestic affairs 
which required her attention. They only pre- 
tended to be in a good 'humor, and sat glaring at 
each other for sometime in hate and amazement. 


TEE DUEL. 


137 


At last Billy Smalltrash, who thought himself the 
most abused of mortals, rose and went out into the 
yard. He walked down the path until he came 
to the gate, on which he leaned his elbow, striving 
to think of some plan whereby he could utterly 
annihilate his enemy. 

It’s got to come, said Smalltrash savagely. 
'' Either he or I shall die. We can’t both live ’n 
this world. There’s too many of us here. How 
will I do it?” 

At this moment he discovered Asa coming up 
the road. 

Hello, Mr. Smalltrash ; out gittin’ cool ?” 

Yes, Asa. What is that fellow doing here ?” 
he asked. 

I dun know,” Asa answered. “ He’s here 
most of the time now. He was here last Satur- 
day,” and then Asa went on to relate how he 
killed a calf supposing it was a bear. 

What am I to do with such a persistent 
fellah.” 

“ Lick ’im.” 

“ Fight him, ah ?” 

*^Yes.” 

'' But I could not, he might be stronger than I.” 

Asa seemed to be for a moment lost in thought, 
as if he was trying to fall upon some profitable 
plan. At last he said : 

“ I’ll tell ye how to get rid o’ him, Mr. Small- 
trash.” 


138 


THE DUEL. 


How ?” Billy asked eagerly, for somehow he 
had confidence in Asa Mullen’s judgment and 
discretion. 

Call him out.” 

What’s that ?” 

'' Challenge ’im.” 

To fight a duel ?” 

^‘Yes.” 

Oh, sah. I’ve no objection to fighting him 
with pistols, but then yo’ know it’s against the 
law.” 

'' Law nuthin’. Down here in Blue Grass 
Valley, they allers settle things one o’ two ways.” 

Billy Smalltrash was really trembling with 
dread, when he asked what those ways were. 

'' Either by fightin’ with fists or pistols.” 

Aw !” 

He shuddered convulsively. 

‘^Yes, sir,” Asa continued. ''Everything 
like this kind o’ a muss must be settled with pis- 
tols. He began to fear that Billy Smalltrash 
would become alarmed and fly from such an 
unchristian civilized country as was Blue Grass 
Valley, where love affairs sometimes had such 
bloody termination, and concluded to make a 
change. " I say, feller, ye needn’t be a bit afraid 
to challenge him.” 

"Why?” Billy asked trembling with excite- 
ment. 

" Cos he won’t fight.” 


TEE DUEL, 


189 


Why won’t he?” 

** Too big a coward.” 

Won’t he have to ?” 

*'No, he kin back out; but ye kin bet that 
Sis won’t hev nuthin’ more to do with him. 
Jest back ’im out ’n his cakes dough.” 

B-b-b-but suppose he would fight.” 

** Then kill him. He ain’t no shot ’tall. But 
he won’t fight, he knows he’s no shot an ’ll back 
out, see ’f he don’t. Spunk right up to him an’ 
see ’f he don’t back out.” 

An hour later Asa met Mr. Flaxseed and told 
him about Mr. Smalltrash going sniping and 
being left out all night. 

Asa,” said Mr. Flaxseedafter a few moment’s 
silence, '' what am I going to do to get rid of 
that fellah ?” 

Asa seemed for a moment to be puzzling his 
brain for an answer, and then he said : 

'' I’ll tell ye jest what’ll do ’t.” 

'' What ?” was asked by the rival in a fit of 
desperation. 

'' He’s the biggest coward ye ever saw ’n yer 
life. Now Sis hates a coward, ’n ye know ’f 
it comes to the test he’ll back right out ; chal- 
lenge him.” 

-What ?” 

- Challenge him to fight a duel.” 

- With what weapons ?” and Sammy Flaxseed 
was trembling with terror. 


140 


TEE DUEL, 


'' Pistols ; I kin git ’em fur ye.” 

What be shot.” 

Oh, shot nuthin’” said Asa, a frown of con- 
tempt on his face. '' Don’t ye know he’ll run. 
Ef ye’ve got the spunk to stand right up to him 
an’ face ’im like a man', he’ll jest back right 
down. Don’t ye be a bit afeard he won’t. Jest 
spunk right up to him if ye ever ixpect to get 
Sis. She’ll go back on ye ’n a minnit ef ye 
prove a coward. He may seem like he’s goin’ 
to hang on at fust, but when he sees the pistols 
he’ll wilt.” 

By dint of hard persuasion and argument, first 
with one and then the other, he got their courage 
screwed up to the sticking-point, and both were 
ready for each other’s gore. 

There was only the slightest pretext for a 
quarrel needed, and by some strange coincidence 
each of the dudes resolved to challenge the other 
in the presence of the adored one, that she might 
witness their courage. 

As old uncle Abram Mullen had threatened 
to drive them both away if they did not evince 
less anger, they were forced to be sly about 
shooting each other. 

The sun was not over an hour high on that 
delightful Saturday afternoon when Mr. Flax- 
seed, who had been holding a private interview 
with Asa, returned to the large mulberry tree, 


TEE EVEL. 


141 


feeneath which sat the angelic Clara and the hated 
rival Mr. Smalltrash. 

'‘Are you going sniping to-night ? Mr. Small- 
trash,” he asked with all the venom a dis- 
appointed rival can use, 

" Are you going on another ba’ hunt and kill 
another calf ?” Billy Smalltrash retorted. 

" None of your impudence, puppy.” 

" None of yours, hound.” 

" Do you mean to insult me ?” 

" Do you mean to insult me ?” 

" Oh, gentlemen — gentlemen,” Sis began, but 
things had gone too far. Billy Smalltrash 
demanded satisfaction, and Sammy Flaxseed 
said he should have it, and then they talked of 
pistols at five paces. 

" It’s not a fitting place to arrange this in the 
presence of a lady, but I will arrange the time 
with you,” said Sammy Flaxseed, and he went 
away tearing a leaf out of his small day-book and 
writing out a formal challenge, or as near formal 
as he could, for he had never heard of the code 
of honor. 

The only person he "could find suitable to 
carry the challenge for him was Asa Mullen. It 
would not do to trust one of the darkies, as they 
might tell the old folks. 

“ Now, Asa, my deah boy, aw ! don’t fail to let 
yo’ angelic sistah know what I’ve done fo’ her 
sake.” 


143 


THE DUEL. 


** Oh, Sis ’ll know all ’bout it,” said Asa. He 
found the other rival just writing out a challenge. 
To say that he accepted it at once would be a 
mild way of putting it. He looked savage 
enough at the time, and was disappointed 
because he had not been able to send the chal- 
lenge himself. 

‘‘ How does he seem, my deah boy, ah ?” he 
asked. 

He’s weakenin’,” Asa assured him, **an’ ef 
ye’ve got the spunk t’ stand up ’t him he’ll back 
out.” 

This was consolation to Smalltrash. 

When he went back with the acceptance to the 
other dude, he asked : 

“ How does he seem, my dear boy, ah ?” 

** He’s weakenin’,” Asa answered, with a strong, 
assuring smile. ‘‘ Ef ye’ve got the spunk t’ stan’ 
right up t’ him, he’ll back out yit.” 

And this was consolation to Flaxseed. 

Each lived on the hope that when the test 
came the other would back out. Asa kept his 
word with Sis, and told her all about it. The 
time for the duel was to be the next morning at 
sunrise. It seemed a terrible thing to fix upon 
such a beautiful morning for murdering each 
other, but that was the time fixed, and Asa urged 
each to stand up to the rack whether there was 
any fodder there or not. They so decided, 
fodder or no fodder. 


THE DUEL, 


148 


The dudes from Lexington passed the night 
in adjoining rooms, restlessly tossing upon their 
beds and sighing. Asa passed the time in lis- 
tening first at one door and "then at the other. 

Oh, will I be alive to-morrow night?’' he 
heard Billy Smalltrash sigh. 

** Will I have entered the dark portals of death 
when the morrows sun sets ?” he next heard 
Sammy Flaxseed sob. 

Of course neither slept. Who could sleep with 
such a burden on his mind. Each expected to 
be a corpse. Billy Smalltrash at last thought 
he would leap from the window and go back to 
Lexington, but when he stuck his head out he 
saw Sammy Flaxseed with his head out, and he 
was thinking about flying the country, and 
Smalltrash thought Flaxseed had weakened, and 
Flaxseed thought Smalltrash had weakened, so 
both went back to their bed of agony, doubt, 
darkness, and despair. 

Thus the night wore away. 

Day began to dawn, and Asa, who was always 
an early riser when he had business on hand, 
went down the road to meet Tommy Thrasher. 
He knew Tommy was coming, but wanted to see 
that everything was in order. He and Tommy 
had a talk ; then Asa went back and woke Sis and 
put some mischief in her head. He found the 
dudes half dead with fear, each drawing the cov- 
erlets over his head, and he had no little proding 


144 


TEB BTiBL. 


of their pride to do, before he could rouse them. 
But they got up and dressed at last. 

It was a glorious Sabbath morning. The air 
was still, and the chirrups of birds, just awaking 
from a night of sweet innocent sleep, filled the 
air with music. It was not very cold, and yet 
both the dudes were shivering and trembling in 
a strange, unaccountable manner. 

The sun was not yet up, but the eastern sky 
was growing redder every moment with a glori- 
ous halo. There was so much now worth while 
living for that neither of the unfortunate Lex- 
ington dudes wanted to die. 

They saw only Asa and another boy larger 
than he was. The other boy carried a bundle of 
something in his hand which made them shud- 
der. Silently and solemnly the little procession 
moved out into the road, then to the woods. Oh, 
how Smalltrash wished Flaxseed would weaken ; 
and oh, how Flaxseed wished Smalltrash would 
weaken. But a delightful little green valley 
between two adjacent hills was reached, and the 
boys talked iii solemn whispers. The dudes 
were both cold from toes to head. The boys 
placed them at five paces, and gave each a pistol, 
which to our unfortunate Lexington friends 
seemed large as a cannon. 

Now, when ye hear me yell ' fire/ shute,” said 
Asa. 


TEE HAUNTED HOUSE. 


m 

They heard him, but each was silently mur- 
muring a prayer and preparing for death. 

Git ready,” cried Asa, and they did, if shut- 
ting their eyes was getting ready. Asa stood by 
one and Tom Thrasher by the other. Aim ; ” 
the pistols were raised and held by unsteady 
hands. '' Firei' Two sharp reports rang out 
on the air, each dude felt a stinging blow in the 
face, and went down. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 

“ Oh ! — oh ! Fm killed,” groaned Smalltrash. 

Oh, Lawd, Fm dead, ’n I know it,” sobbed 
Flaxseed. 

Asa Mullen bent over him, and he certainly 
was a sight to behold. His face was not covered 
with his life-blood, but the contents of an over- 
ripe egg, which had evidently not been discharged 
from the pistol but the hand of our hero’s chum 
Tom Thrasher, while Smalltrash suffered from a 
similar wound from the hand of Asa himself. 

How’s yours, Tom ?” Asa asked, feeling 
Flaxseed’s pulse. 

‘‘ Head shot all to pieces.” 

So’s mine.” 

Warnt they good shots though ; brains run- 
nin’ down in their faces.” 


146 


TEE EAmTED \eOV8E. 

Oh, Lawd, forgive me !” groaned Flaxseed. 

Oh, good Lawd, have mercy on me a sinnah !” 
moaned Smalltrash. 

That’s right,” said Asa, who had a remark- 
able power over his risibles when he saw fit to 
keep them under his control. He was at this 
minute gravity itself. '‘Ye’ve neither one got 
many minutes more to live, an’ ef ye’ve got any 
confessions t’ make, better make ’em.” 

“Oh, dear !” 

“Oh, deah !’’ 

“ No one kin live long with their brains out.” 

“ Oh, Lawd, forgive me for taking money from 
my employer’s till !” groaned Smalltrash. 

“ Oh, Lawd, forgive me for not giving that 
pocketbook and money back to the lady who 
lost it, and foh stealing money from the chief 
clerk. I’m going to die now, forgive me !” wailed 
Flaxseed. 

“ That’s right, ’fess up,” said Asa, with a face 
which was very grave. “ You aint got very much 
time to spare ’bout this, cos I tell ye, yer times 
mighty short. 

“ Oh I oh ! oh ! I’ll never pick another pocket, 
good Lawd !” groaned Sammy Flaxseed. “ If 
you’ll only let me live. I’ll be good.” 

“I’ll never rob another till, good Lawd!” 
howled the dying Billy Smalltrash. “ If you’ll 
spare me. I’ll go to preaching.” 

“ ril turn preacher, too,” wailed Sammy Flax- 


mts SAtinTED Motrsz 


147 


seed, who really believed his last moment had 
come. 

'' Then git up an’ go to preachin’,” said Asa 
with a laugh. Wipe that egg out o’ yer eyes 
’n ye kin see what yer bout. Git up ye darn 
fools, yer not hurt ’tall.” 

Both the dudes began to realize that they had 
been badly sold. They struggled to their feet 
and began to wipe their faces. Oh I what a 
smell. Did ever anyone find anything more offen- 
sive to the olfactory organs than eggs in the last 
stage of consumption ? Our dudes certainly 
thought not as they rubbed their faces again and 
again, to free them, from the offensive odor. 

*‘Ef I’d a knowed that ’d been the kind of 
ammunition you fellers war a shootin’. I’d a not 
been a standin’ so close round to ye,” Asa re- 
marked. with a chuckle. 

Tom Thrasher now fairly burst all bounds and 
rolled over upon the grass, laughed and roared 
until the woods fairly echoed with his shouts. 

Perhaps our Lexington friends could have 
stood all this had not the rippling peals of musi- 
cal laughter come from another direction, and just 
behind a large oak tree they caught the form of 
Miss Clara convulsed with laughter. This was 
more than human nature could endure, and both 
our Lexington dudes felt themselves sinking. 
They wished they were at home. 

** I’ll see this thing out yet,” cried Sammy Flax- 


148 


fUE HAUNTED HOUSE. 


seed, wheeling about and disappearing in the 
thicket. 

“ Yes, I will see the end of this,” roared Small- 
trash, and he disappeared doubtless to search for 
that end of which he was speaking. Strange to 
say neither halted until he brought up in a Lex- 
ington street car, where they sat and glared at 
each other from opposite sides. The other pas- 
sengers in the car thought there must be some 
Limburger cheese abpard. 

It was a dull day at the Mullen homestead. 
According to Asa’s own term he had spent all 
of his ammunition, and he would be compelled 
to recuperate and gather in some more material 
before he went any further. 

Guess, Sis, we put it in too strong on them 
beaux o’ yourn. I’m afeered we jist skeered ’em 
right out, so ’t they won’t come back soon 
agin.” 

It’s too bad, Asa, the way you did.” 

I didn’t do nuthin’. The blasted fools jest 
skeered each other purty near to death. I didn’t 
hurt ’em ’tall ; guess may be they’ll hev more 
sense arter this.” 

Sis could not help but laugh when she remem- 
bered the ridiculous figure they cut as they lay 
panting upon the green sward under the delu- 
sion that their brains had been shot out. 

'' It was too funny, I do declare,” she said. 
‘‘ I never yet saw anything so ridiculous.” 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 149 

An’ both o’ them said they’d been a stealin’,” 
put in Asa, with a chuckle. “ Oh, I tell ye, when 
a rascal thinks grim death’s got a hold on him, 
it’s mighty apt to make ’em ’fess up purty 
quick.” 

There was no preaching that Sunday in the 
Blue Grass Valley school-house, so Asa’s parents 
remained at home. 

Mr. Mullen was a little mystified at first over 
the sudden disappearance of his guests, until Asa 
explained that they had received a summons 
early that morning to go to Lexington, and had 
gone before the father was up. This so com- 
pletely explained matters that it was needless to 
worry his mind further. 

Asa pined for some work to engage his ambi- 
tious mind, but his parents with puritanic accu- 
racy observed the Sabbath. 

The day passed drearily enough. Late in the 
afternoon he did manage to steal away and ride 
a wild steer at break-neck speed through the 
woods ; then, though Autumn had turned the 
leaves and chilled the waters, he went swimming, 
and came out in time to tie a tin can to Mr. 
Dallyripple’s dog and send him home yelping as 
if he was being killed, to frighten Deacon Snow’s 
horse and m.ake him almost upset his rider. 
Then he went over to Tom Thrasher’s to find 
out what day of the week it was, and fall upon 
some plan to keep out of school that winter. 


150 


TEE HAUNTED HOUSE. 


While with Tom, they managed several little 
schemes for the amusement of the people. They 
tied grass, hunted up a hornet's nest and put it 
in close proximity to a public road, and prepared 
it to shake down on anyone who might pass that 
way. They tied a cat to the tail of Dallyripple’s 
old gray mare, and left her to go home as rap- 
idly as she could. They felled a tree across the 
road, and adjourned to meet at the first call for 
mischief. 

There was a house in the neighborhood that 
was reputed to be haunted. It was on the Val- 
ley road, about half-a-mile from the Mullen 
homestead. The road led to McFarlin’s mill, 
down on Blue Lick, and it was a lonesome road. 
It seemed that trees grew taller and larger along 
this road than on any other in the whole coun- 
try. There were many dark shadows within 
those woods calculated to inspire awe and fear 
in any one. 

Then the old haunted-house stood back from 
the road a considerable distance, and had a 
decidedly dismal appearence. There was a 
great, tall, beech-tree near it, beneath which it 
seemed that goblins might congregate by moon- 
light and made the night hideous. There were 
rumors also of groans being heard about the 
house, and sheeted ghosts in matchless dignity 
gliding by in air. Some one had seen a white 
figure with slashed throat, and heard shrieks of 


THE HAVNTED HOUSE. 


151 




152 


TEE EAUNTED E0U8E. 


murder. Shooting stars, and strange meteors 
had been seen in the sky, and strange creatures 
flying through the midnight air ; so that no one 
really cared to go near the house at midnight. 
In fact, no one, save old man Dallyripple, who 
was skeptical about every thing, cared to go 
near the house, even by day-light. He, in defi- 
ance of all ghosts in ghostdom, had ploughed up 
the ground, and sowed a turnip patch close 
to the haunted-house. 

Asa’s pa and Tobe, the darky, went to mill, 
and Asa knew they would be late returning. 
Their road led by the haunted-house. Mr. 
Mullen declared that there was no such a thing 
in the world as “ ha’nts.” Neither scripture nor 
science proved that there were such things, 
and he was very skeptical as to their existence. 

Tom,” said Asa, “ ’spose we go to Daily- 
ripple’s turnip patch to-night for turnips to eat.” 

'' Steal ’em ?” asked Tom. 

Naw, — steal nuthin’,” «ried Asa indignantly. 

D’ye take me fur a thief ? Mr. Dallyripple 
told me I might hev all the turnips I could eat, 
ef I’d go thar’n pull’em after sundown, ’n eat ’em 
in the old house.” 

‘‘ Aint ye afraid o’ ha’nts, Asa ?” 

Naw — are you ?” 

Tom shook his head as to indicate his skepti- 
cism as to ghosts of all kinds. He was willing 
to go if Asa was, and Asa was always willing to 


TEE EATJNTE'J) HOUSE, 153 

do anything which promised either fun or adven- 
ture. 

“When’ll ye go, Tom ?” he asked. 

“ When d’ye want to go.” 

“ This evening.” 

“ All right, count me in.” 

The arrangements were perfected, and just a 
bit before sundown, Asa and Tom, both on pre- 
text of hunting for their cows, set out to the 
house that was reputed to be haunted. 

They had a point of meeting. Boys usually 
arrange those matters with as much exactness as 
business men, and are far more prompt in mak- 
ing their business engagements. Asa was at the 
rendezvous but a few moments when he saw 
Tom coming on a run. 

Both boys had put on shoes, for Autumn was 
advancing and the evenings were growing 
colder. There had been several slight frosts, 
and several times skims of ice, not thicker than a 
window glass, had been seen over the water. 

They had no thought of driving up the cows 
just then. Cows could' be attended to after they 
had visited the haunted-house. 

They reached the turnip patch just after dusk, 
and were not long in selecting each a juicy vege- 
table, and then Asa said : 

“ Naw, Tom, ye know we must go inter the 
house an’ eat ’em.” 

“ Less go up stairs,” suggested Tom, 


154 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE, 


, ’Greed.” 

There was a stairway leading up outside of the 
building, with a landing at the top, and a door 
opening into the upper story. The boys ran up 
the creaky, rickety old steps like a pair of wild 
goats scampering over a rocky hillside. When 
they got up to the top they pushed open the door 
without ceremony, and drawing their pocket- 
knives began peeling turnips without any regard 
for the dignity of the ha’nts ” that might inhabit 
this portion of the country. 

“ Naw, ’f thars any ha’nts let ’m come on,” said 
Asa, defiantly crunching his turnip. 

''What’s that?” said Tom, suddenly feeling a 
little timidity. 

" ’Taint nuthin’.” 

"Yes, ’tis — I hear somethin’.” 

" What does it sound like.” 

" Wagin.” 

" ’Tis a wagin cornin’ down the road,” said Asa, 
his mischievous blue eyes evincing no little excite- 
ment. " Oh, I know who ’tis.” 

"Who ?” 

" It’s pa ’n Tobe cornin’ back frum the mill. 
Less jest begin to whoop ’em up an’ make ’em 
think all the ha’nts in the Blue Grass Valley ’s 
broke loose, ’n skeer ’em nigh into fits.” 

" ril do it.” 

" Oh, we’ll hev fun.” 

Asa went to the door and looked down the 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE, 


155 


road. It had already grown so dark that objects 
could not be seen at any great distance. 

Now, Tom, begin to whoop ’em up. Groan.” 

Tom gave vent to a terrible groan, which Asa 
followed with a half-smothered scream. There 
followed a scuffling sound, which increased every 
few moments. 

Keep it up, keep it up,” whispered Asa, as the 
wagon drew nearer and nearer to them. They 
did whoop ’em up,” if jumping and groaning, 
and scuffling could be called “ whooping ’em up.” 

The wagon came opposite the house, and Mr. 
Mullen called a halt. 

Tobe, what in the name o’ the Lawd is that ?” 
the good old man asked in astonishment, not a 
little mixed with fear. 

'' I-I-I-I dun no m-m-master, but I kinder 
s-s-spects its ha’nts.” 

'' Tobe, you silly feller, there ,are no sich things 
in existence as ha’nts,” said Mr. Mullen. 

The groans and racket in the upper story of 
the haunted-house continued. The plastering on 
the low ceiling was loose and began falling dowh 
upon the floor, with a glassy like sound. 

'' Oh, m-master, good Lawdy, good Lawdy, 
what’ll I do — what’ll I do ?” the darkey groaned. 

'' Stay right here, Tobe, an’ I’ll go in the name 
o’ the good Lawd an’ see what it is. I will 
tho’ I should see something that’d turn me to 
stone/’ 


156 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 


Oh, marster — g-g-good marster, don’t,” 
groaned the frightened darkey, who expected 
every moment to see some form of horrid kind 
appear from one of those dark windows. 

“ B-b-be quiet, Tobe — don’t go to getting 
frightened, now, an’ go off an’ leave me.” 

N-n-no, m-m-master, I’se not skeered. I’se 
gwine to stay right here wid ye till ye c-c-come 
back.” 

Asa and Tom Thrasher were still continuing 
their ghostly racket when the sound of footsteps 
were heard at the bottom of the stair-way. 

“ By ginger, pa’s cornin’ up the stairs,” Asa 
whispered. “ He’ll jest whale us. He’ll give us 
goss.” 

“What’ll we do ?” Tom Thrasher asked, far 
worse scared than he would have been at a whole 
legion of ghosts. 

Asa glanced above and saw a small square hole 
in the ceiling, which was the only entrance to 
the attic. “We must git up thar, right pert too, 
fpr pa’s cornin’.” 

“ How?” 

“The ceilings low. Lem me git on yer shoul- 
ders an’ I’ll go ’t ’n then I’ll pull you up.” 

The plan was put in execution at once, and as 
both boys were active as circus tumblers, they 
bid fair to be hidden away. At every move, 
however, new chunks of plaster broke loose and 
fell upon the floor, ringing like broken glass. 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 157 

Asa was safely housed in the attic and 
reached his hands down to pull his friend up out 
of danger. All the while the firm footsteps of 
the stern old man could be heard coming up the 
creaky, rickety old stairway. It was quite dark 
in the house, or one could have seen Tom’s legs 
dangling' in the air as Asa tugged away and tried 
to pull him up into the attic. But Tom was a 
heavy boy and taxed his friend’s strength. Plas- 
ter still continued to fall in a shower upon the 
floor. At last Asa’s hold slipped and Tom fell 
with a crash on the floor, bringing down a barrel 
of plaster with him. Mr. Mullen could stand 
this no longer and wheeled to run. 

He lost his balance and fell rolling down the 
stairway. 

Asa nearly died as he heard his pa roll from 
the top to the bottom of the stairway, crying : 

“ Oh, Lawdy ! oh, Lawdy ! oh, Lawdy !” at 
almost every jump. The team took fright and 
run away, wrecking the wagon and throwing 
Tobe out. If the darkey had not fallen on his 
head, it was supposed he would have been 
killed. 

When Asa got home with the cows, late that 
night, he found his pa badly bruised, with a 
sprained arm, sitting in a chair, while his ma was 
busy binding up his hurts. The good man was 
telling his good wife about passing the haunted- 
house, and '' bearin’ strange voices up thar I 


158 


TES EOB-DOWN IE 


then got out o’ the wagon *n went up the steps 
outside o’ the house, ’n thar kept failin’ glass on 
the flo’ all the time, an’ them voices an’ the awful- 
est groans ye ever heerd kept up. I declar’, 
Susan, I’ll never say agin that I don’t believe in 
ghosts. What war they ?” 

Rats,” said Aunt Susan. 

Rats ! oh, gammon, d’ye think rats kin groap 
an’ gallop ’bout like a herd o’ cattle. Then jest 
as I got to the top a boss fell whack on the flo’, 
an’ fifty bar’l o’ glass with ’im.” 

Asa was attacked with a choking spell, and left 
the house. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE HOE-DOWN IN WILD CAT HOLLER. 

“ Hi, yee ; whoop ’em up ; Swing yer pard- 
ner : First lady lead to the right ; Gents foller 
suit ; Lady in the centre an’ three hands ’round ; 
Ev’rybody dance ; Allaman left. Tee-tee-di-di- 
dee di-dee. Right hand to pardner and grand 
right’n left. He, ye, whoop ’em up.” 

Te-ree-diddle-dee, diddle diddle dee — ” It 
was a squeaky old fiddle in the hands of a “blind 
nigger ” that made the music, to which the wild 
dancers kept a sort of time. They were having 
a grand hoe-down in Jack’s cabin, down in “ Wild 
Cat Holler.” The cabin was a small log affair, 


WILD GAT MOLLER. 


169 


but when the table, beds and chairs were shoved 
out of the way it afforded plenty of room for a 
good, old-fashioned hoe-down. They were hav- 
ing it lively to-night, and the tramp of many feet 
over the puncheon floor rang out like the tramp 
of cavalry. Some had evidently embibed freely 
from the hidden bottles. The fiddler sat on a 
table and sawed away. The dancers danced 
furiously. The door was ajar, letting the rays of 
the moon fall within the apartment. 

This was a kind of a holiday blow out,” 
Jack White said. Jack’s cabin was in the iso- 
lated Wild Cat’s Holler, at the lower end, and 
his neighbors came from the hills and gullies. 
Most of them were squatters and wood-cutters. 
The girls were red-cheeked, freckle-faced, and 
would average oi\e hundred and forty in avordu- 
pois. They worked during the week at spinning- 
wheels, looms, or in cotton patches, and never 
missed a “ dance,” when there was one in the 
neighborhood. 

Jack White was a general favorite. At a hoe- 
down, corn-husking, or log-rolling, he was the 
chief man. He was fearless in a knock-down, 
and never failed to take the shine out of a feller, 
if he began to put on airs. 

It would have been a sorry day for one of Sis’ 
dude beaux, had he ventured into Jack’s domain. 
He would “jest as lief knock a feller down for 
wearin’ a biled shirt, as take a drink of whiskey,” 


160 


TEE BOEDOWN IN 


some of his friends declared. It would never do 
for any one to go to putting on airs around Jack 
White. Jack wouldn’t stand it, and there would 
be no foolin’ with him.” 

Jack’s cabin was located at the lower edge of 
the ‘‘ Holler,” and several miles from Mr. Mullen’s 
house, and how Asa came to be there would 
puzzle the oldest man living. It was no puzzle 
to Asa, however, for like everything else he did, 
he had an explanation for his visit here. He had 
started out to hunt the cows, and got lost, and 
wandered on, and on, until he came right slap 
into Jack’s house, and now, as he was here, he 
thought he would stay until the hoe-down ” was 
over, and have some one show him to the road 
which led home. True the road was not very far 
away, and a very plain road, and easily found, but 
Asa had not lost it, and it was not his business to 
hunt it up. Let those people who knew just 
where it was take him to it when they got at 
leisure, which they certainly would not be until 
this dance was over. 

Having found himself in this out of the way 
cabin in “Wild Cat Holler,” Asa determined, 
like a philosopher, to make the best he could out 
the situation. He climbed up on the greasy pine- 
board table, by the side of the blind musician, 
and sometimes ventured to take part in the call- 
ing off. 

“ Whoop ’em up — whoop ’em up,” he occasion- 


WILD CAT HOLLER. 


161 


ally yelled, as the dancers became warmed up, 
and to use old Jack’s words ** they jest hoed it 
down.” 

Bet that fat gal dances Jim Robbins to death 
’fore mornin,” Asa yelled. 

“ Shet yer mouth ye red-headed pecker wood,” 
shouted a two-hundred-poutider, who, in swing- 
ing her pardner,” actually lifted his feet from the 
floor. 

We have accounted for Asa’s presence at the 
hoe-down, — it may not be a very satisfactory 
account to the reader who may doubt Asa’s story 
about having lost his way, but then it’s the best 
excuse we can offer. 

There is another there, however, whose pres- 
ence we will have to explain. Now reader pre- 
pare for a genuine, first-class surprise. You need 
not hold your breath until you suffocate, but get 
ready for an astonishment. 

The other was the Rev, Jordan Caldwell, the 
Methodist 7ninister, 

There now, you have denounced him as a 
hypocrite, hav’nt you ? But hold on a moment ; 
don’t be too hasty with Mr. Caldwell. He is not 
a bad man, but somehow has a remarkable faculty 
for blundering into awkward scrapes. 

He was traveling in this country to his appoint- 
ment and, not being familiar with the roads, got 
lost, and was forced to put up at old Jack’s house. 
Mr. Caldwell was only a minister journeying in 


163 


THE nOEEOWN IN 


a missionary sort of a way through the world, 
trying honestly to pluck brands from the burn- 
ing,” and here was a whole bonfire to be extin- 
guished. 

He was wearied with his hard day’s ride and 
had retired, before the festivities began, to the 
garret, to a bed which had been prepared for him. 
We don’t know how Asa found it out, but he did 
in some manner learn that the minister was in 
the attic bed-room. He was delighted to see 
that Jack was about '‘three sheets in the wind,” 
and wouldn’t stand any foolishness. It was no 
use for any of those fine-aired fellows to come 
about Jack. Everybody had to conform to his 
notion of things, and when he said “ whoop ’em 
up,” they had to “whoop ’em up.” 

Before the minister had fallen asleep the 
squeaky old fiddle struck up its: “Tee diddle 
dee, diddle dee, diddle dee, — tre ree ; diddle-dee 
diddle dee.” 

There was no sleeping for that good man. 
He was too much shocked, and felt it his duty to 
go down below and warn these revelers of their 
peril. It is true that he had some apprehensions 
as to the result of the warning, but then he re- 
solved come what might he would do his duty. 

“ If I can but get their ear once, I will hold 
them,” he said as he hurriedly dressed in the dark, 
and felt his way down stairs. Asa heard him 
coming, and told Jack that the visitor was coming 


WILD OAT HOLLER. 


1G3 


either to take a part in the dance himself, or to 
interfere. That was enough for Jack. He had 
some suspicions of his guest all along, and he met 
him at the stair door. 

“That’s right, stranger,” he roared. “Come 
right down an’ shake yer leg; jine in. Be one o’ 
us. Here, Ma, git a pardner fur this guest.” 

“ Sir, I-I-I — ” began Mr. Caldwell. 

“ Hurry up, Ma ; ” interrupted Jack in a voice 
like the roar of a bull. “ They’re makin’ up the 
next set. Drag Mrs. Betts or Liz Johnston in 
here an’ give ’em a knock down to this gent. 
He’s dyin’ to crack his heels together in the mazy. 
Hump yerself, ma.” 

“ They’re a dancin’ three sets out in the kitch- 
in’, an’ all the gals is spoke fur,” cried out “ ma,” 
a great red-faced wild-eyed woman in a yellow 
dress, with green and blue flounces and pink 
ribbons, “ But I’ll take a trot with the stranger 
myself.” 

“ Madame, M— ” 

“You don’t know how? Land o’ rest ; that 
don’t make a mite o’ difference. Any fool kin 
dance ‘Old Dan Tucker.’ I’ll slap you right 
through easy as failin’ off a log.” 

“ No, madam,” said the minister with all the 
sternness he possessed, “ I have never yet in- 
dulged in the practice of dancing, and I never 
will, and — ” 

“ What’s that yer givin’ us ?” roared Jack, his 


1G4 THE HOE-DOWN IN WILD CAT HOLLER. 

face white with rage, while “ Ma ” stepped back 
with her fist clenched. “ Ye don’t dance, he ? 
Not even with ‘ ma,’ a lady be gosh, from way 
back ? A lady which is fit to adorn better serci- 
ety ’n what you’ve ever poked yer nose in, by 
Jacks ; a lady what kin play on the orgin and 
write poetry be gosh ; and you won’t dance with 
her ?” 

But, sir, I-I-I — ” 

“ Not a word out o’ you ; " ma,’grab ’im.” 

Ma” grabbed. 

As Mr. Caldwell seemed about to make some 
feeble resistance Jack took down his old Ken- 
tucky rifle from its rack over the door, and 
yelled : 

Hey, you, fiddler ; saw out ' Granny will 
yer dog bite ?’’ The fastest ye ever sawed it in 
yer life ; it’s goin’ to be danced by a professional ; 
‘ma,’ waltz him out into the middle of the floor, 
’n the first break he makes I’ll drop ’im.” Jack 
cocked his gun. 

“ Ma ” waltzed her trembling white-faced pard- 
ner out, the fiddler struck up the aforesaid clas- 
sical air, and the other dancers stopped to see 
the fun. 

“ Crack away, ‘ ma.’ ” 

There was a rush, a wild whirling around and 
around, a mighty bobbing straight up and down, 
a jump, a whoop, a mad whirl, a flying of thin 
black-robed legs in the air. More whirling, bob- 


THE LEXINGTON DUDES DISPOSED OF, 165 

bing, jumping and whooping, and the final drop 
of a limp breathless man into a chair, where he 
sat for a moment staring about him and gasping 
for breath. 

I reckin' that feller won't soon furgit when 
he danced with ‘ma,’” said Jack, as his guest 
crawled up-stairs to bed. 

Mr. Caldwell's mortification did not end here. 
At the close of services the next Sabbath at the 
Blue Grass Valley school-house, Asa plucked him 
aside, and asked : 

“ Say, ain't you the feller what danced with 
Misses White at the hoe-down in Wild Cat Hol- 
ler ?” 


CHAPTER XVIL 

THE LEXINGTON DUDES DISPOSED OF. 

For some time Mr. Flaxseed and Mr. Small- 
trash seemed to have dropped out of the mind of 
the family. But they had not. Asa was not 
near done with them. While Sis indulged the 
hope that she would never see them again he 
had no notion to allow as good an opportunity 
for fun as they afforded him escape so easily. 

Asa is not a boy that we would hold up as a 
sample of a good boy, or a boy after whom all 
other boys should model. He was a boy. Per- 
haps he was not the ideal boy ; and if we hold 


166 


THE LEXINGTON DUDES 


Asa up at all as an example, it is as a terrible 
example and warning to all others not to follow 
him. 

Asa had a bad way of prying about and getting 
an inkling into other people’s affairs. It was all 
right as long as it was Sis’, or pa’s, or ma’s 
secrets he was learning ; and Asa never eaves- 
dropped anybody else. Through this evil pro- 
pensity of his, he learned that Mr. Paul Webster, 
Sis’ best beau from Louisville, intended paying a 
visit to the belle of the Blue Grass Valley the 
next Sabbath. 

Now Asa had made a truce in good faith with 
Paul, and he intended keeping it to the letter as 
far as he himself was concerned, but if there 
was any way to get another thrust at “ them 
Lexington dudes,” he was going to do it. 

He was not long in forming his opinion as to 
the course he should pursue. Having ascer- 
tained the exact day that Sis’ best beau would 
come, he sat down to his desk — which was a 
goods box in the attic — and with his pen — which 
was a lead pencil — he wrote two very humble and 
apologetic letters, one to each of the Lexington 
dudes, in which he informed them’" that he was 
very sorry for the trick he had played ; that 
Sis had a’niost cried her eyes out, an’ pa had 
taken the skin off his back. To each he said 
that Sis wanted him to come the next Saturday 


DISPOSED OF, 


167 


sure, without fail, but she ''would di’ ’fore she 
would say so.” 

When Mr. Smalltrash received his letter, he 
had no idea that Mr. Flaxseed had a similar one, 
and consequently thought that the belle of the 
Blue Grass Valley was favorable to him. When 
he was dancing in his room, kicking his heels in ' 
the air, he little realized that Mr. Flaxseed was 
going through a similar process. 

By a strange coincidence both resolved at the 
same time to go, and both did go. A strange 
coincidence to that they met at the house of their 
adored. 

Asa witnessed the meeting, and was not slow 
to observe that there was not an excess of broth- 
erly love. We don’t know what feelings pre- 
dominated, but certainly surprise was head and 
shoulders above every other emotion. Sammy 
Flaxseed was surprised because Billy Smalltrash 
was there, and Billy Smalltrash was surprised 
because Sammy Flaxseed was there, and Paul 
was surprised at finding them both there, and 
Sis found herself wondering how they all came 
there, and the farther we go the more sur- 
prised people are, until we come to Asa, who was 
not surprised at all. 

" I tell ye, they’re goin’ to whoop ’em up,” he 
said to his chum, Tom Thrasher, who had come 
over at his special invitation to enjoy the fun. 

" Now, Tom, we’ve got ter strike while the iron’s 


168 


THE LEXINGTON BEDES 


hot, ye bet. Don’t let ’em git a chance to cool 
off, but jest keep a whoopin’ ’em up. When 
ever yer with Smalltrash tell him it was Flax- 
seed what caused the duel, an’ for him to stick 
to him ; that he throwed the rotten egg. When 
yer with the other, jest whoop ’im up, too.” 

" I’ll do it,” said Tom. 

“’N I’ll make it lively, too. Ye see fellers in 
their condition need a great deal o’ encourage- 
ment, ’n they’ll fly off the handle ’n go back to 
Lexington. 

Sis found she had her hands full to keep down 
trouble. 

'' If this is some of Asa’s work,” the belle of 
the Blue Grass Valley said to herself, '' he has 
gone a little too far. Why those idiots came 
here without an invitation is more than I can 
understand.” 

Paul Webster asked himself the same question 
and was almost on the point of asking Clara, 
when Asa managed to pluck him aside, and 
said : 

Don’t ye mind ’em, Mr. Webster. Jest go 
in ’n court Sis like a mule a kickin’. Them 
fellers ’d cut each other’s throats ’f they warnt 
too big cowards. Don’t you let them two Lex- 
ington dudes worry you.” 

But how did they happen to come here 
to-day ?” asked the puzzled Paul. Did your 
sister invite them ?” 


DISPOSED OF. 


169 


<< Naw — invite nuthin’. She never axed ’em 
to come here’n her life. Sis’ mad as a wet hen 
’bout ’t, but she don’t dare let on. Jest go on 
with yer courtin’, ’n if I don’t show yer more fun 
’n the next twenty-four hours ’n ye ever seed ’n 
yer life, then, say I’m not an expert.” 

Paul laughed and decided to let this expert 
have the management and control of the dudes 
all to himself. Both he and his chum were get- 
ting in their work well. First one and then the 
other talked with these fellows and kept up their 
courage, each was assured that the Blue Grass 
Belle smiled on him. 

Sis was never no happy as when strolling 
about the delightful old farm with her city 
friends. Paul had grown to love the place 
second to the girl who walked at his side. He 
was fond of a stroll among those grand old 
apple trees. 

Sis heard footsteps following them, and glanc- 
ing back saw the two Lexington dudes. 

Why did those two dunces come here to-day, 

I would like to know ?” she involuntarily asked 
in her vexation. 

“You did not invite them?” said Paul, his 
heart giving a great joyful bound. 

“ No, sir ; and if they were gifted with a great 
amount of human intelligence, they would under- 
stand that they were not wanted either. But I 


170 


THE LEXINGTON DUDES 


am forced to treat them civil, and hope you will 
do so.” 

'' Oh, yes, to be sure. Miss Clara,” said the 
bashful Paul, who could well afford to be gener- 
ous now that he found that the belle of the Blue 
Grass Valley cared nothing for the simpletons. 

“ Aw ! Miss Clara, beg pawdon,” began Mr. 
Smalltrash, ‘‘ but I thought I would accompany 
you — ” 

“ Beg pawdon, beg pawdon. Miss Mullen, but 
I greatly feah you will be bored,” began Flax- 
seed. 

Oh, no, gentlemen,” said Clara, smiling gra- 
ciously. I assure you that my friends never 
bore me. I am always so happy to see them. I 
hope both you gentlemen are enjoying your- 
selves.” 

Ahem,” said Smalltrash. 

“ Ahem,” echoed Flaxseed. 

'' This is such a delightful day that I am sure 
you enjoy it ; the country air will do your over- 
worked brains good.” 

Aw, yes,” said Flaxseed. 

‘‘To those who have brains,” put in Smalltrash, 
casting a fiery glance at Flaxseed. 

“ It might cure lunacy, wha’ a man goes snip- 
ing,” retorted Flaxseed, returning the fiery glance. 

“ Or one who has a hallucination to hunt 
ba’s,” retorted Smalltrash. 

The dudes were getting nearer to each other, 


DISPOSED OF. 


171 


and Mr. Webster saw those fiery glances, and 
actually heard them snarl like dogs glowering at 
each other. 

“ Snipes !” snapped Flaxseed. 

“ Ba’s !” bawled Smalltrash. 

The dudes were getting nearer to each other, 
and their eyes were gleaming with all the fury of 
demons. Their teeth gnashed and they seemed 
extremely desirous of tearing each other to pieces. 

“ Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen,’’ cried Miss Mul- 
len. “ Do be careful what you say ; remember 
where you are.” 

“ Beg pawdon. Miss Mullen,” said Smalltrash. 

“ Beg pawdon,” said Flaxseed, bowing very 
low. “ I had almost forgot Miss Mullen, for 
really when one comes in contact with such infini- 
tesimally small-souled creatures as some by which 
we are unfortunately surrounded — ” 

“ Yes, Miss Mullen,” and Smalltrash bowed 
wonderfully low and spoke in a very sarcastic 
manner. “ The presence of ba’ huntah’s, for 
instance.” 

Grinding his teeth with rage Flaxseed turned 
upon his rival and hissed : 

“ Snipes !’’ 

Ba’s !” retorted Smalltrash. 

Paul Webster oould not restrain his laughter 
longer. The figure cut by these two dudes was 
really so ridiculous that a gravestone might have 
been provoked to laughter. 


172 


THE LEXINGTON DUDES 


You gentlemen seem to be about equal,” he 
said with a smile. '' I don’t know but you might 
as well play quits.” 

The Lexington dudes stood and scowled at 
each other for several moments, and at last Small- 
trash said : 

“ I have nothing furthah to say.” 

“Nyther have I,” responded his chum and 
associate. '' I have said all there is to say about 
it, I don’t care if Mr. Smalltrash hunts snipes all 
night.” 

'' Ba’s !” cried Smalltrash. 

Snipes !” 

It is useless to say that Asa enjoyed the scene, 
and as for Tom Thrasher, he was lying behind a 
haystack holding his hands to his sides in a dan- 
gerous fit of cramp colic. 

That evening Asa managed to see his sister 
alone a few moments, and said : 

'' Sis, them two fellers from Lexington ’r goin’t 
stay till Monday.” 

'‘Yes, I suppose so,” Sis answered, a frown on 
her pretty brow. “ I don’t see why they don’t 
go ; I don’t want them around here.” 

“Nor does Paul neither — I guess I’ll hev to 
take ’em in hand. Sis.” 

“ What do you mean, Asa ?” 

“ Well, fact is. Sis, jest this ; Paul’s goin’ t’ pop 
the question ter ye to-night ’f he can git half a 
chance. Now I’m solid with them two dudes, ’n 


DISPOSED OF. 


173 


Fm goin to keep’m out’n the way so^s to give 
Paul a show, ye know.” 

Sis blushed, and Asa continued : 

‘‘But, I say. Sis, aint we pretty skace o* 
beds ?” 

She knew that Asa had an object in asking the 
question, and before she could answer he in- 
formed her that Tom Thrasher, Joe Diggs, Pete 
Hodge, and Ike Nichols might conclude to come 
and stay all night with him, and that there was 
but one bed for the Lexington dudes. Paul 
Webster, of course, could have the upstair east 
bedroom, and the dudes would have to take the 
north-west bedroom. Sis assented ; and Asa left 
with a wink. That evening the weather grew 
suddenly cold, as it does in the late Autumn, and 
Asa raised the window of the north-west room to 
let it air, and, for fear the dudes might suffer 
from oppressive heat, took away all the heavy bed 
covers. 

He fQ,und Sis and Paul in the parlor talking 
very earnestly. Billy Smalltrash was sitting on 
the grindstone in the front yard, and Flaxseed 
was on the fence, both shivering with cold and 
wishing themselves in Lexington. Both were 
disgusted with the Blue Grass Valley belle whom 
they voted a flirt. They had peeped through 
the window and saw Sis and Paul sitting very 
close together. That night was very cold and 
the frost flakes fell about them in abundant 


174 


TEE LEXINGTON EUEE3 


showers. They shivered — for each was dressed 
more for elegance than comfort. 

** Mr. Smalltrash,” said Asa, in a doleful voice 
as he approached the dude sitting on the grind- 
stone, “ I’m ’fraid yer cakes dough s fur s Sis ’s 
concerned. 

“ Why ?” asked Smalltrash, who felt very much 
as if he had just received a sentence to the Peni- 
tentiary. 

‘‘ Ye know that feller from Louisville who’s 
bin tryin’ t’ cut ye out, don’t ye ?” 

Yes.” 

“ Well, he’s popped.’' 

‘‘ And what did she do?” 

She flopped.” 

It was even so as represented by Asa ; she 
was at that moment lying in the arms of the 
happy Paul. Poor Billy felt his legs grow weak. 
They had always looked rather weak. They 
seemed scarcely able to bear him. Asa sup- 
ported him to the room set apart for Jiim, and 
put him to bed. 

“ Aw, I feel as though I wa’ going to have a 
chill, my deah boy!” groaned Billy, “let the 
window down.” 

“Wait till I come back.” 

Asa was gone, and in a moment was at Sammy 
Flaxseed’s side. Sammy fell off the fence when 
he received the stunning intelligence that Sis 
and the Louisville fellow were betrothed. 


DISPOSED OF. 


176 


Asa helped him to the room set apart for him. • 
We’ve goin’ to hev lots o’ company to-night,” 
he said, as the dude was ushered into the room, 

so ’t ye’ll hev to sleep two in a bed.” 

The dudes did not know each other, for it was 
dark, until both were nestled down in bed. Asa 
had gone out forgetting to put down the 
window. 

“ I beg pawdon, strangah,” said Smalltrash, 

“ won’t you let down the windah ? . The boy 

forget it.” 

Flaxseed now recognized his enemy. 

"You heah ?” he cried. 

"You heah ?” roared Smalltrash. 

" Snipes !” 

" Ba’s !” 

A smothered snort was heard at the door and 
both became silent. 

Flaxseed got up to close the window, and 
Smalltrash took his opportunity to secure most 
of the cover. Sammy waited until he got to 
sleep, and then he stole all the cover off of 
Billy, and, wrapping up snugly, went to sleep. 
Billy waked up finding himself almost frozen, 
and took the pains to drag the cover off of his 
companion and put it on himself. The dudes, 
continued this, alternately sleeping, changing 
cover, and freezing, until daylight, when both 
waked at once. 

They sat up and looked at each other for a 


176 


A FEAST SPOILED. 


moment and, as if moved by some inward 
impulse, they said : 

‘‘ Sam, forgive me !” 

Bill, forgive me !” 

They rose in silence, and silently dressed. 
Then, gazing helplessly into each other’s faces 
for a few moments, Billy broke the silence by 
saying : 

Sammy, let’s go ?” 

Agreed.” 

They went down stairs, out at the gate in the 
road and, pausing long enough to shake the dust 
off their feet, started on foot for Lexington, fully 
determined never again to be seen in Blue Grass 
Valley. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A FEAST SPOILED. 

Hello, Asa, where ye goin’ with that gun ?’* 
“ Huntin’, Tom ; where you goin’?” 

On an errand fur yer pa.” 

“Pa?” 

“Yes.” 

“ What-ye goin’ to do ?” 

“ Goin’ over to Dallyripples ’t buy a lamb.” 
“What the nation ’n Tom Walker d’ye 
mean ?” 

Asa took from his shoulder a gun, and sat the 


A JmdST SPOILED. 


177 



“ ‘ You heah V he cried; ‘ you heah ?’ roared Smalltrash.”— - 

Page 175. 



178 


A FEAST SPOILED, 


breach down on the road while he leaned on the 
barrel. A year has passed since the events in 
our last chapter. Asa has grown one year 
older, and “ ten years’ meaner” according to his 
pa’s way of putting it. 

He had met his chum, Tom Thrasher, and the 
two stood for some moments gazing at each 
other in silence, while Asa was trying to puzzle 
his brain to understand why on earth his pa had 
entrusted Tom with an errand instead of his own 
dear little boy. 

“Tom,” said Asa, solemnly. 

“ What ?” Tom answered. 

“Tell me all about it.” 

“ Yer pa wanted me to.” 

“ What is it, Tom ?” 

“ Go’n buy him a lamb.” 

“ What in the world does he want a lamb for ?” 

“ Don’t ye know he’s a goin’ to give an old- 
settlers’ dinner here ?” 

“No; did’nt know it,” Asa said, shaking his 
head dubiously. “ I’ve heerd pa speak somethin’ 
’bout ’t too, I b’leve.” 

Asa had heard of the old-settlers’ dinner for 
some time ; in fact he had heard of nothing else. 
Pa and ma had planned over it, and slept over it, 
and talked over it, and dreamed over it until at 
last they had determined to make the old settlers’ 
dinner a practical reality. Asa was just now 
puzzling ifis brain to find some way to get even 


A FEAST SPOILED. 


179 


With his pa ” for his lack of confidence in his 
skill and judgment in buying a lamb. 

“ Yer goin’ ter buy the lamb fur dinner, are ye ?” 
he asked. 

“Yes,” Tom answered meekly. 

“ Now, Tom, I want to ax ye some questions ; 
serious questions ; ’n I want the rale straight out 
truth from you.” 

“What is’t, Asa?” asked Tom. 

“ Will ye tell.” 

“Yes.”^ 

“ Honest Injun ?” 

“^Honest Injun.” 

“ Why’d pa send you t* buy the lamb instead 
o’ sendin’ me ?” 

“ Wall, I tell ye, Asa,” he said in a solemn 
manner. “ Yer pa he said he was afeerd ye’d do 
some mischief, spend the money fur somethin 
else, or play some tricks on ’em, an’ he wanted 
me to go to Dallyripple, buy the lamb, ’n hev the 
dinner, ’n you not know nuthin’ ’bout it”. 

“Fraid I’d do some mischief was he ?” said 
Asa, his brows contracted into a knot. 

“ Yes, that’s what he said.” 

“Umph, humph — well, I don’t know but what 
there’ll be some mischief done anyway.” 

“ No, no, Asa, don’t go doin’ that 

“ Oh, I’ll fix it all up. You go on to old Dally- 
ripples, ’n buy the lamb an’ come on.” 

Tom glad to be let off so easily — for he knew 


180 


A FBAST SPOILED. 


very well the singular disposition of his friend, — 
went on his way rejoicing. He purchased the 
lamb of Mr. Dallyripple, and was leading it down 
the road in triumph, when he met Asa with the 
gun on his shoulder. 

“ Come on,” said Asa. 

- Well, I will.” 

“ ril help ye lead the lamb.” 

There was a rope about its neck, and they led 
it along very well until they came opposite the 
house of old Josh Small. Old Josh had a violent 
temper and was, when roused, sometimes danger- 
ous. Old Josh had a great fondness for dogs. 
He always had two or three dozen about him, 
and they were not the mpst valuable dogs either. 
There were old dogs and young dogs, big dogs 
and little dogs. The moment the boys came in 
sight a chorus of yelps went up in the air, and 
the dogs began swarming out around them. 

“ Here ; take it,” cried Asa, “ and give me the 
gun.” 

Tom caught the string, hapding Asa the gun. 
The frightened lamb jerked the boy almost off 
his feet, and before he could recover himself the 
loud report* of a gun rang out in the air. 

With a sharp yelp, one of the fattest of the 
pups bounded into the air and fell back dead. 

An angry yell came from the house and, as the 
boys retreated in a body, old Josh Small came 


A FEAST SPOILED. 


181 


down from the house, through the gate, down to 
the road, threatening the boys with a club. 

Hold on, Mr. Small, hold on,” said Tom, 
frightened almost out of his wits. 

, “ Take the lamb,” said Asa, ‘Ht ’ll pay fur the 

idog.” 

What ’ll I do ?” Tommy asked. 

Bring on the pup,” said Asa. 

The day for the Old Settlers Dinner came. It 
was the next day after the killing of the dog, and 
the lamb had been brought in, neatly dressed and 
cleaned, and Aunt Sukey thought it would make 
a splendid lamb stew. All the neighbors liked 
lamb stew, and she was sure that this would 
please them well. 

’Pears t’ me dat dis ’ere lamb’s got mighty 
short legs,” said Aunt Sukey. “ I nevah saw a 
lamb so long a body ’n short legs ’n so fat as dis 
’ere is ; but I guess it ’ll make a berry fine stew, 
any way.” 

Sis,” said Asa to his sister in the kitchen, 
“ ef I wus you I wouldn’t eat at the fust table.” 

Why, Asa ?” 

Oh, cos it don’t look well, that’s all.” 

Why, Asa, how curious you talk ?” 

None o’ yer beaux are here ar’ they. Sis ?” 

I have but one beau and that’s Paul, and you 
know I’m engaged to him, Asa,” said Clara, 
blushing profusely. 

Well, Sis, ’t makes no difference what 


182 


A FEAST SPOILED. 


happens to-day, I want ye to promise me one 
thing.” 

'' What is that ?” she asked. 

That ye won’t go back on me.” 

She promised, and Asa went to the dining- 
room. He, of course, was uninvited. The 
guests were assembled around the table ; old 
deacon Fogham had '‘said a long grace,” and 
every one was busy at the feast. The lamb 
stew was passed around and to all it had a pecu- 
liar flavor. The flesh was very tender and they 
seemed at a loss to tell whether it was lamb or 
pork. 

“ By the way, neighbor,” said deacon Fogham, 
“it seems to me that this has a peculiar taste for 
lamb. Fve et lambs ever since I can remember, 
but never ’n my life did I taste one like this’n. 
It may be my taste, though.” 

“It tastes qua’ to me,” said old grandaddy 
Slypole. 

“To me, too,” put in granny Swarshbuckle. 

“’Taint lamb,” roared Asa, who stood conven- 
iently near the door. 

“ What is it ?” asked everybody. 

“ It’s a dog. I shot it myself.” 

Asa’s pa made a grab at his boy, but that 
hopeful son and heir escaped. 


LETTER. 


188 


CHAPTER XIX. 
asa’s letter. 

Asa was growing to be a hopeless case. Cor- 
rection seemed to do him no good. His parents 
could do nothing with him, and it was decided 
at last to send him to college. Asa with all his 
propensity to meanness had a brilliant intellect, 
and Paul Webster who was soon to become a 
member of the family by marrying the belle of 
the Blue Grass Valley, was sure that it would 
be the very thing to send the youth to college. 

Asa had been proscribed ever since the Old 
Folks’ dinner. He had lived a sort of outlawed 
life ; old deacon Fogham had scoured the woods 
over, rifle in hand, for the dear little boy, and 
grandaddy Smarshbuckle swore to shoot him at 
first sight. Something must be done with Asa 
to prevent a first-class murder trial. 

So that was why his pa ” decided to take him 
to college. He smuggled him along the road 
one dark night to the station, boarded the train 
with his dear little boy, and the next morning 
they were in Louisville. Asa had never been in 
a larger town than Tick Hill, Lick-Skillet and 
the Station before, and Louisville, to him, seemed 
huge. His pa was to stay with his dear little 
boy until he got started in, to see that he did not 
get homesiclc. 


184 


ASA^S LETTER, 


Asa wrote his sister a letter in which he 
describes Louisville, and especially the effect it 
had upon his “ pa.” As we have been able to 
procure a copy of that letter we here give it 
entire : 

Louisville, Kentucky. 

‘‘November i8th, i8 — 

“ Dear Sis : 

“You may put ma in too, if you want to, but as 
Fm writin’ this letter to you, I thought Fd say 
you. Well, we got here all safe, but I don’t 
know how we done it. It seems to me that any 
one who could git here can go almost anywhere. 
Well, Sis, this is a purty nice town, but it’s too 
far away from Blue Grass Valley to ever amount 
to much. I saw yer beau Paul, an’ he’s as good 
as pie to pa ’n me. He took us to the theatre 
last night. You don’t know what that is, of 
course. Well, pa, he don’t want it known in 
the Valley that he went, cos ye see. Sis, there 
was sights at that theatre. Thar was a railin’ 
runnin’ all round at one end, an’ above it riz a 
high floor an’ great big curtains, bigger ’n a dozen 
bed quilts, rolled up ’n down. Thar was men 
settin’ in that railin’ a fiddlin’ like they war at a 
dance, an’ ye know pa don’t go to dances at 
home. 

“ Well, a big feller came out ’n screamed an’ 
yelled in sich a awful way that two or three 
other people came out on that big floor an’ all 


ASA^S LETTER 


185 


got. into a fight over a gal. Pa, he got his dan- 
der up, ’n he wanted to gq 'n hev a hand, but 
some one told him not to, fur it was all in the 
play — well, after they got ’em all quieted down, 
them fiddlers begin fiddlin’ agin, an’ pa he kept 
a pattin’ his foot, though I told him it didn’t 
look well fur as old a man as he, an’ one who was 
a church-member, to be pattin’ his foot fur a 
dance. Well, d’rectly, a whole passel o’ gals, 
with slippers, long white stockin’s an’ spider-web 
dresses came out ’n danced. They could beat 
anything in Wild Cat Holler. An’ sich kickin’. 
I though pa’d take a fit, he laughed so much. 
One’s shoe came off ’n hit pa on the nose. 
Well, pa don’t want anything said ’bout this to 
ma, so ’f you read this letter to her ye can skip 
this part. 

“ I was goin’ with pa down the street next day, 
an’ they’ve got men an’ women made out o’ 
rocks, an’ wood, an’ iron standin’ by the side of 
the stores, holdin’ out their hands. Well, ye 
know pa can’t see very well when he ain’t got his 
specks on, an’ so, when he saw one o’ these 
wooden people, he stepped right up, took hold 
o’ his hand ’n said : 

Why, howdy do ? I ain’t seed yer fur long 
time. When was ye down on Blue Grass Val- 
ley last ?” 

I told pa he was mistaken ; that this man hed 
never bin down thar, but he told me to shet my 


186 


A8AS LETTER, 


mouth, that he was the very man to whom he 
sold the horses last summer, an' went on t’ ax 
him if he haddriv’ a purty good bargain. Well, 
as the feller wouldn’t talk back, pa soon begin 
to see that he was mistaken, an’ so he apologized, 
an’ we went on. 

“ I jest declare. Sis, I am ashamed o’ pa. He’s 
entirely too free. He won’t mind a word I say, 
an’ yesterday, as we were goin’ through some rale 
purty woods called a park, we saw a deer lyin’ 
down chawin’ terbacker, an’ he wanted me t’ stay 
thar ’n watch it, while he ran to the house fur a 
gun ; but a big man who had on a blue coat ’n 
brass buttons came up ’n told pa they’d jug him 
if he hurt that deer. Though pa likes a jug 
purty well ye know, he didn’t seem to want to be 
jugged, ’n so he went away. Well, they’ve got 
street kears here. They’re a house on wheels, 
an’ it takes two horses to pull ’em. Whenever 
we go ridin’ on these kears pa wants to drive. 
Says he always drives at home. They hev to 
pay five cents for ridin’ on them kears, an’ when 
the man who jingles the bell because it makes 
him so glad to git a nickle come round to pa, he 
told him that next time he came to Blue Grass 
Valley he’d take him ridin’ in his wagin’ to pay 
back fur this ride. The feller got mad, an’ 
cursed and swore that pa ’d either pay or git off. 
Pa never could stand it to hev anybody cuss, so 
he paid, an’ at the next street we got off. 


A8A*8 LETTER. 


187 


^'Well, they’ve got me in the college. Not 
the rale college they, say. They call it the pre- 
paritory ; but I don’t see any sense ’n that, coz 
it’s all one building, an’ I prepared to come afore 
I came. Paul Webster he comes over ever once 
in a while, an’ was tickled mighty nigh to death 
when he heard one o’ the teachers say I was a 
rale smart boy. Paul’s a rale good feller. Sis ; 
but when ye marry him ye’ll hev to jest watch 
out cos he’s got a temper. He can’t stand 
nuthin’. I went to meetin’ with him one night, 
an’, Sis, they’ve got the biggest meetin’ houses 
here ye ever seed. Why, one’s bigger’n our last 
winter’s ole straw pile. Then the benches are 
made out o’ wood on one side ’n rag on tolher, 
’n as soft as any bed ye ever laid down on to 
sleep ’n yer life. Well, it was so good set tin 
thar ’n the preacher he talked kinder drowsy 
like, ’n I went to sleep. They said I snored so’s 
the people couldn’t hear the preacher. It made 
Paul mad, ’n he shook me considerably. Wall, 
it woke me up, ’n he told me to stay awake. I 
think a feller that ’ud do that’s got a temper. 
Well, Sis, I aint got much to write ; they give 
me a whole passel o’ buks to read, ’n slate an’ 
pencil t’ cipher. They haven’t got me a pair o’ 
roller skates, nor a pocket pistol, ’n o’ course I 
can’t be happy ; but I’m goin’ to try to live 
through it. Pa’s goin’ home ’n a day or two, 
’n I guess then, maybe, I kin git out a little 


188 


CONCLUSION. 


’n hev some fun. Don’t tell ma how her dear 
little boy’s pinin’ awky. Has ole deacon Fog- 
ham et another dog since I left ? 

“ Good bye, 

^‘Asa.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

CONCLUSION. 

Everything must have an end, and so must 
this narrative. We don’t know whether the 
reader will part with Asa willingly or reluctantly. 
We suppose it depends more on the make-up of 
the reader than the story ; as it usually does. If 
the man who reads this is a good-hearted, whole- 
souled jolly fellow, who throws in big when the 
contribution box is passed around, who helps a 
fellow in trouble, enjoys a good hearty laugh and 
thinks there is no harm iii fun, he will part with 
Asa Mullen reluctantly. But if the reader is a 
straight-jacket, a narrow-minded, small-souled, 
fault-finding, high-pressure moral man, who always 
takes more than legal interest, who can talk about 
the sins of the world, and swindle a widow or an 
orphan, he will throw Asa Mullen aside, and call 
it trash and demoralizing stuff. But we don’t 
care a fig for your criticism. All the good books 
published were pronounced bad by critics, until 
the world had found out they were worth their 


OONGLVSION. 


189 


weight in gold, and these self-same critics came 
to the front to laud them to the skies. A fool 
and a critic are' not synonomous, but they are 
relatives. 

It is a bright day in summer, and the Mullen 
homestead, in Blue Grass Valley, is adorned in 
all its glory, for this is a festive occasion. The 
richest garb of summer has been assumed by all 
the ornamental and shade trees. Flowers of a 
thousand shades and hues bloom all over the 
yard. The house itself has been converted into 
a veritable flower garden. The old broad fire- 
place has been massed with banks of roses. Sis's 
pretty little linnet sings gaily in his new cage, 
and a happy throng is assembling. There are 
ladies dressed in almost every sort of costume, 
from the yellow calico of “ Wild Cat Holler,” to 
the silks, satins, and diamonds of Louisville. 89 
All formality seems to have been laid in the 
Asa’s improvement at college has been 
immense. He is through in division and has 
learned that ‘'John is a noun.” He knows that 
the earth is round, and that Louisville is in Ken- 
tucky. Of course he has not graduated, but he 
winks his eye, and says : 

“ I’ll git thar eli’, be gosh.” 

Rev. Caldwell is also present to officiate in the 
coming * ceremony,' assisted by Rev. John Cul- 
bertson. It is useless to say that these men 
have forgiven A^a, for forgiveness is their trade. 


190 


C0N0LXT8I0N. 


A preacher who can’t forgive is no good. He 
must forgive his people if they lie on him, if 
they go to sleep in meeting. He must forgive 
them if they miss coming. He must forgive 
them if they slip and fall (morally, we mean), 
and if they owe him a salary for going through 
rain and snow and cold and heat, he must for- 
give the debt, or the biggest part of it, — at least, 
he usually has to do so. So of course these good 
men forgave Asa, and laid up no grudge against 
him. 

He was like all other boys, ‘'just a little bit 
bad.” 

Of course the reader knows what’s going to 
happen. There is great “ carryings on ” at the 
Mullen homestead. Aunt Sukey is in the back 
kitchen hard at work. She has on her best 
clothes too, for though she is cooking a grand 
dinner for this great assembly, she is ready to go 
in the minute they “stand up.” Asa, notwith- 
standing it is his sister’s wedding day, is far 
more interested in one pot that is boiling, than 
the coming nuptials. In that pot is sheep’s-head 
and dumplings — Asa’s favorite dish. He is tell- 
ing Aunt Sukey to be very careful, for he is 
hungry. 

At this moment the whisper goes all over the 
premises that now it’s going to be done. Aunt 
Sukey quits the pots, and wiping her hands, 
hastens with the other darkies into the large 


COKGLtTSIOir. 


191 


front room, where the guests are all awaiting the 
solemn ceremonies. Sis, the Belle of the Blue 
Grass Valley, looks prettier than ever in her 
pale blue silk en la trame — and bribal veil. Paul 
is proud as he takes her hand to become her 
lawful and wedded husband. Oh, the solemnity 
of that hour as the good man proceeds with the. 
ceremonies. Even the little bird ceases his song 
and all hearts seem stilled. Only the low, solemn 
voice of the man of God breaks the silence. 
The air is laden with the perfume of flowers, and 
a quiet, glorious happiness on this summer’s day 
seems to pervade the atmosphere. 

All have risen, and the man of God raises his 
hands and begins to pray, when the well-known 
voice of Asa could be heard at the door. 

'' Ma — ma — ma, come here ?” 

Ma she looked up from between her hands and 
beg^yi to wink and nod to drive Asa away or 
silence him for a few moments ; but Asa perse- 
vered. 

‘‘ Ma — oh, ma,” he called, each time getting 
louder. 

She again resorted to a system of winks and 
nods, when he, out of all patience, cried : 

Ye needn’t stand thar a winkin’ and blinkin’ 
all day, for I be durned ’f the ram’s head aint 
buttin’ all the dumplin’s ’n the fire.” 

Aunt Sukey understood that the dumplings 
were boiling out, and hastened to their rescue. 


192 


CONCLXISION'. 


Asa was once more at his ease, for there was 
enough saved for his dinner. 

The ceremony was of course completed, and 
the sweet Clara Mullen became the wife of the 
really noble but bashful Paul Webster. 

Asa never graduated. The president of the 
college said he thought if they were able to change 
faculties every six months he might get through, 
but that human life was too precious to attempt 
to graduate him. He’s at home once more ; and 
the great question which now agitates Blue Grass 
Valley, is not how to solve the negro problem, 
nor who is to be the American novelist, nor 
whether the American Republic is doomed, but 
what is to become of “Asa Mullen, The Worst 
Boy Alive.” 

THE END. 


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X X ; This is a Vital HhospUite, not a laboratory phosphate or soida 
water absurdity. 

66 W. 25th St., N. Y. For Sale by Druggists, or sent by mail, $1. 
























library of congress 



D0D21bTnt.3 








